THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 


Mrs.  Warren  Gregory 


EREWHON 


"  It  is  not  wonderful  that  such  a  man  as  Butler 
should  be  the  author  of  'Erewhon,'  a  shrewd  and 
biting  satire  on  modern  life  and  thought — the  best 
of  its  kind  since  'Gulliver's  Travels.'  ...  To 
lash  the  age,  to  ridicule  vain  pretension,  to  expose 
hypocrisy,  to  deride  humbug  in  education,  politics, 
and  religion,  are  tasks  beyond  most  men's  powers; 
but  occasionally,  very  occasionally,  a  bit  of  genuine 
satire  secures  for  itself  more  than  a  passing  nod  of 
recognition.  'Erewhon,'  I  think,  is  such  a  satire." 
— Augustine  Birrell,  in  The  Speaker. 


SAMUEL  BUTLER. 


EREWHON 

OR 

OVER  THE   RANGE 

BY 

SAMUEL    BUTLER 

author  of 

"life  and  habit,"  "the  authoress  of  the  odyssey," 

"Shakespeare's  sonnets  reconsidered," 

and  other  works 


NEW    YORK 

E.  P.  DUTTON  fcf  COMPANY 


Published  191 7 
By  E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO. 


First  printing March,  1917 

Second  printing August,  1919 

Third  printing August,  1920 


planted  in  the  Unitwl  State©  of  Hmmca 

GIF1 


PREFACE  TO  FIRST  EDITION 

The  Author  wishes  it  to  be  understood  that 
Erewhon  is  pronounced  as  a  word  of  three 
syllables,  all  short — thus,  £-re-whon. 


365 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

Having  been  enabled  by  the  kindness  of  the  public 
to  get  through  an  unusually  large  edition  of  "Ere- 
whon"  in  a  very  short  time,  I  have  taken  the  oppor- 
tunity of  a  second  edition  to  make  some  necessary 
corrections,  and  to  add  a  few  passages  where  it 
struck  me  that  they  would  be  appropriately  intro- 
duced; the  passages  are  few,  and  it  is  my  fixed  in- 
tention never  to  touch  the  work  again. 

I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  say  a  word  or  two 
here  in  reference  to  "The  Coming  Race,"  to  the 
success  of  which  book  "Erewhon"  has  been  very 
generally  set  down  as  due.  This  is  a  mistake, 
though  a  perfectly  natural  one.  The  fact  is  that 
"Erewhon"  was  finished,  with  the  exception  of  the 
last  twenty  pages  and  a  sentence  or  two  inserted 
from  time  to  time  here  and  there  throughout  the 
book,  before  the  first  advertisement  of  "The  Coming 
Race"  appeared.  A  friend  having  called  my  atten- 
tion to  one  of  the  first  of  these  advertisements,  and 
suggesting  that  it  probably  referred  to  a  work  of 
similar  character  to  my  own,  I  took  "Erewhon"  to 
a  well-known  firm  of  publishers  on  the  ist  of  May 
1871,  and  left  it  in  their  hands  for  consideration.  I 
then  went  abroad,  and  on  learning  that  the  publish- 
ers alluded  to  declined  the  MS.,  I  let  it  alone  for  six 


Preface 

or  seven  months,  and,  being  in  an  out-of-the-way 
part  of  Italy,  never  saw  a  single  review  of  "The 
Coming  Race,"  nor  a  copy  of  the  work.  On  my 
return,  I  purposely  avoided  looking  into  it  until  I 
had  sent  back  my  last  revises  to  the  printer.  Then 
I  had  much  pleasure  in  reading  it,  but  was  indeed 
surprised  at  the  many  little  points  of  similarity  be- 
tween the  two  books,  in  spite  of  their  entire  inde- 
pendence of  one  another. 

I  regret  that  reviewers  have  in  some  cases  been 
inclined  to  treat  the  chapters  on  Machines  as  an 
attempt  to  reduce  Mr.  Darwin's  theory  to  an  ab- 
surdity. Nothing  could  be  further  from  my  inten- 
tion, and  few  things  would  be  more  distasteful  to 
me  than  any  attempt  to  laugh  at  Mr.  Darwin;  but 
I  must  own  that  I  have  myself  to  thank  for  the  mis- 
conception, for  I  felt  sure  that  my  intention  would 
be  missed,  but  preferred  not  to  weaken  the  chapters 
by  explanation,  and  knew  very  well  that  Mr.  Dar- 
win's theory  would  take  no  harm.  The  only  ques- 
tion in  my  mind  was  how  far  /  could  afford  to  be 
misrepresented  as  laughing  at  that  for  which  I  have 
the  most  profound  admiration.  I  am  surprised, 
however,  that  the  book  at  which  such  an  example 
of  the  specious  misuse  of  analogy  would  seem  most 
naturally  leveled  should  have  occurred  to  no  re- 
viewer ;  neither  shall  I  mention  the  name  of  the  book 
here,  though  I  should  fancy  that  the  hint  given  will 
suffice. 

I  have  been  held  by  some  whose  opinions  I  respect 
to  have  denied  men's  responsibility  for  their  actions. 


To  Second  Edition 


He  who  does  this  is  an  enemy  who  deserves  no  quar- 
ter. I  should  have  imagined  that  I  had  been  suffi- 
ciently explicit,  but  have  made  a  few  additions  to 
the  chapter  on  Malcontents,  which  will,  I  think, 
serve  to  render  further  mistake  impossible. 

An  anonymous  correspondent  (by  the  handwrit- 
ing presumably  a  clergyman)  tells  me  that  in  quot- 
ing from  the  Latin  grammar  I  should  at  any  rate 
have  done  so  correctly,  and  that  I  should  have  writ- 
ten "agricolas"  instead  of  "agricolae."  He  added 
something  about  any  boy  in  the  fourth  form,  &c, 
&c,  which  I  shall  not  quote,  but  which  made  me 
very  uncomfortable.  It  may  be  said  that  I  must 
have  misquoted  from  design,  from  ignorance,  or  by 
a  slip  of  the  pen ;  but  surely  in  these  days  it  will  be 
recognized  as  harsh  to  assign  limits  to  the  all-em- 
bracing boundlessness  of  truth,  and  it  will  be  more 
reasonably  assumed  that  each  of  the  three  possible 
causes  of  misquotation  must  have  had  its  share  in 
the  apparent  blunder.  The  art  of  writing  things 
that  shall  sound  right  and  yet  be  wrong  has  made 
so  many  reputations,  and  affords  comfort  to  such  a 
large  number  of  readers,  that  I  could  not  venture 
to  neglect  it ;  the  Latin  grammar,  however,  is  a  sub- 
ject on  which  some  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
community  feel  strongly,  so  I  have  now  written 
"agricolas."  I  have  also  parted  with  the  word 
"infortuniam"  (though  not  without  regret),  but 
have  not  dared  to  meddle  with  other  similar  in- 
accuracies. 

For  the  inconsistencies  in  the  book,  and  I  am 


Preface 


aware  that  there  are  not  a  few,  I  must  ask  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  reader.  The  blame,  however,  lies 
chiefly  with  the  Erewhonians  themselves,  for  they 
were  really  a  very  difficult  people  to  understand. 
The  most  glaring  anomalies  seemed  to  afford  them 
no  intellectual  inconvenience ;  neither,  provided  they 
did  not  actually  see  the  money  dropping  out  of  their 
pockets,  nor  suffer  immediate  physical  pain,  would 
they  listen  to  any  arguments  as  to  the  waste  of 
money  and  happiness  which  their  folly  caused  them. 
But  this  had  an  effect  of  which  I  have  little  reason 
to  complain,  for  I  was  allowed  almost  to  call  them 
life-long  self-deceivers  to  their  faces,  and  they  said 
it  was  quite  true,  but  that  it  did  not  matter. 

I  must  not  conclude  without  expressing  my  most 
sincere  thanks  to  my  critics  and  to  the  public  for 
the  leniency  and  consideration  with  which  they  have 
treated  my  adventures. 


Jmw  9,  1872. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  REVISED 
EDITION 

My  publisher  wishes  me  to  say  a  few  words  about 
the  genesis  of  the  work,  a  revised  and  enlarged  edi- 
tion of  which  he  is  herewith  laying  before  the  pub- 
lic. I  therefore  place  on  record  as  much  as  I  can 
remember  on  this  head  after  a  lapse  of  more  than 
thirty  years. 

The  first  part  of  "Erewhon"  written  was  an  ar- 
ticle headed  "Darwin  among  the  Machines,"  and 
signed  Ccllarius.  It  was  written  in  the  Upper 
Rangitata  district  of  the  Canterbury  Province  (as 
it  then  was)  of  New  Zealand,  and  appeared  at 
Christ  church  in  the  Press  Newspaper,  June  13, 
1863.  A  copy  of  this  article  is  indexed  under  my 
books  in  the  British  Museum  catalogue.  In  passing, 
I  may  say  that  the  opening  cliapters  of  "Erewhon" 
were  also  drawn  from  the  Upper  Rangitata  district, 
with  such  modifications  as  I  found  convenient. 

A  second  article  on  the  same  subject  as  the  one 
just  referred  to  appeared  in  the  Press  shortly  after 
the  first,  but  I  have  no  copy.  It  treated  Machines 
from  a  different  point  of  view,  and  was  the  basis  of 
pp.  270274  of  the  present  edition  of  "Erewhon." 


Preface 

This  view  ultimately  led  me  to  the  theory  I  put  for- 
ward in  "Life  and  Habit/'  published  in  November 
1877.  I  have  put  a  bare  outline  of  this  theory 
{which  I  believe  to  be  quite  sound)  into  the  mouth 
of  an  Erewhonian  philosopher  in  Cliapter  XXV II. 
of  this  book. 

In  1865  /  rewrote  and  enlarged  "Darwin  among 
the  Machines"  for  the  Reasoner,  a  paper  published 
in  London  by  Mr.  G.  J.  Holyoake.  It  appeared 
July  1,  1865,  under  tlie  heading,  "The  Mechanical 
Creation/'  and  can  be  seen  in  the  British  Museum. 
I  again  rewrote  and  enlarged  it,  till  it  assumed  the 
form  in  which  it  appeared  in  the  first  edition  of 
"Erewhon." 

The  next  part  of  "Erewhon"  that  I  wrote  was  tlie 
"World  of  the  Unborn/'  a  preliminary  form  of 
which  was  sent  to  Mr.  Holyoake' s  paper,  but  as  I 
cannot  find  it  among  those  copies  of  the  Reasoner 
that  are  in  the  British  Museum,  I  conclude  that  it 
was  not  accepted.  I  have,  however,  ratlier  a  strong 
fancy  that  it  appeared  in  some  London  pdper  of  the 
same  character  as  the  Reasoner,  not  very  long  after 
July  1,  1865,  but  I  have  no  copy. 

I  also  wrote  about  this  time  the  substance  of  what 
ultimately  became  the  Musical  Banks,  and  the  trial 
of  a  man  for  being  in  a  consumption.  These  four 
detached  papers  were,  I  believe,  all  that  was  zvritten 


Preface 

of  "Ercwhon"  before  1870.  Between  1865  and 
1870  /  wrote  hardly  anything,  being  hopeful  of  at- 
taining that  success  as  a  painter  which  it  has  not 
been  vouchsafed  me  to  attain,  but  in  the  autumn  of 
1870,  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  get  occasionally 
hung  at  Royal  Academy  exhibitions,  my  friend,  the 
late  Sir  F.  N.  (then  Mr.)  Broome,  suggested  to  me 
that  I  should  add  somewhat  to  the  articles  I  had 
already  written,  and  string  them  together  into  a 
book.  I  was  rather  fired  by  the  idea,  but  as  I  only 
worked  at  the  MS.  on  Sundays  it  was  some  months 
before  I  had  completed  it. 

I  see  from  my  second  Preface  that  I  took  the  book 
to  Messrs.  Chapman  &  Hall  May  1,  1871,  and  on 
their  rejection  of  it,  under  the  advice  of  one  who  has 
attained  the  highest  rank  among  living  writers,  I  let 
it  sleep,  till  I  took  it  to  Mr.  Triibner  early  in  1872. 
As  regards  its  rejection  by  Messrs.  Chapman  & 
Hall,  I  believe  their  reader  advised  them  quite 
wisely.  They  told  me  he  reported  that  it  was  a 
philosophical  work,  little  likely  to  be  popular  with 
a  large  circle  of  readers.  I  hope  that  if  I  had  been 
their  reader,  and  the  book  had  been  submitted  to  my- 
self, I  should  have  advised  them  to  the  same  effect. 

"Erewhon"  appeared  with  the  last  day  or  two  of 
March  1872.  /  attribute  its  unlooked-for  success 
mainly  to  two  early  favorable  reviews — the  first  in 


Preface 

the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  April  12,  and  the  second  in 
the  Spectator  of  April  20.  There  was  also  another 
cause.  I  was  complaining  once  to  a  friend  that 
though  "Erewhori'  had  met  with  such  a  warm  re- 
ception, my  subsequent  books  had  been  all  of  them 
practically  still-born.  He  said,  "You  forget  one 
charm  tliat  'Erewhori  had,  but  which  none  of  your 
other  books  can  have."  I  asked  what?  and  was 
answered,  "The  sound  of  a  new  voice,  and  of  an 
unknown  voice." 

The  first  edition  of  "Erewhori'  sold  in  about  three 
weeks;  I  had  not  taken  molds,  and  as  the  demand 
was  strong,  it  was  set  up  again  immediately.  I  made 
a  few  unimportant  alterations  and  additions,  ana 
added  a  Preface,  of  which  I  cannot  say  that  I  am 
particidarly  proud,  but  an  inexperienced  writer  with 
a  head  somewhat  turned  by  unexpected  success  is 
not  to  be  trusted  with  a  preface.  I  made  a  few  fur- 
ther very \  trilling  alterations  before  molds  were 
taken,  but  since  the  summer  of  1872,  as  new  editions 
were  from  time  to  time  wanted,  they  have  been 
printed  from  stereos  then  made. 

Having  now,  I  fear,  at  too  great  length  done  what 
I  was  asked  to  do,  I  shoidd  like  to  add  a  few  words 
on  my  own  account.  I  am  still  fairly  well  satisfied 
with  those  parts  of  "Erewhori3  that  were  repeatedly 
rewritten,  but  from  those  tliat  had  only  a  single 


Preface 

writing  I  would  gladly  cut  out  some  forty  or  fifty 
pages  if  I  could. 

This,  however 3  may  not  be,  for  the  copyright  will 
probably  expire  in  a  little  over  twelve  years.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  to  revise  the  book  throughout 
for  literary  inelegancies — of  which  I  found  many 
more  than  I  had  expected — and  also  to  make  such 
substantial  additions  as  should  secure  a  new  lease  of 
life — at  any  rate  for  the  copyright.  If,  then,  in- 
stead of  cutting  out,  say  fifty  pages,  I  have  been 
compelled  to  add  about  sixty  invita  Minerva — the 
Name  rests  neither  with  my  publisher  nor  with  mex 
but  with  the  copyright  laws.  Nevertheless  I  can 
assure  the  reader  that,  though  I  have  found  it  an 
irksome  task  to  take  up  work  which  I  thought  I  had 
got  rid  of  thirty  years  ago,  and  much  of  which  I 
am  ashamed  of,  I  have  done  my  best  to  make  the 
nezv  matter  savor  so  much  of  the  better  portions  of 
the  old,  tltat  none  but  the  best  critics  shall  perceive 
at  what  places  the  gaps  of  between  thirty  and  forty 
years  occur. 

Lastly,  if  my  readers  note  a  considerable  differ- 
ence between  the  literary  technique  of  "Erewhon" 
and  that  of  "Erewhon  Revisited,"  I  would  remind 
them  that,  as  I  have  just  shown,  "Erewhon"  took 
something  like  ten  years  in  writing,  and  even  so  was 
written  with  great  difficulty,  while  "Erewhon  Re- 

XV 


Preface 

visited"  was  written  easily  between  November  1900 
and  the  end  of  April  1901.  There  is  no  central  idea 
underlying  "Erewhon,"  whereas  the  attempt  to 
realize  the  effect  of  a  single  supposed  great  miracle 
dominates  the  whole  of  its  successor.  In  "Ere- 
whon" there  was  hardly  any  story,  and  little  attempt 
to  give  life  and  individuality  to  the  cliaracters;  I 
hope  that  in  "Erewhon  Revisited"  both  these  de- 
fects have  been  in  great  measure  avoided.  "Ere- 
whon" was  not  an  organic  whole,  "Erewhon  Re- 
visited" may  fairly  claim  to  be  one.  Nevertheless, 
though  in  literary  workmanship  I  do  not  doubt  that 
this  last-named  book  is  an  improvement  on  the  first, 
I  shall  be  agreeably  surprised  if  I  am  not  told  thai 
"Erewhon,"  with  all  its  faults,  is  the  better  reading 
of  the  two. 

SAMUEL  BUTLER. 

August  7,  1901. 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Waste  muds i 

II.  In  the  wool-sited 10 

III.  Up  the  river 16 

IV.  The  saddle 24 

V.  The  river  and  the  range 35 

VI.  Into  ErewJwn 47 

VII.  First  impressions 58 

VIII.  In  prism 68 

IX.  To  the  metropolis 79 

X.  Current  opinions 93 

XI.  Some  Erewhonian  trials 108 

XII.  Malcontents 118 

XIII.  The  views  of  the  Erewhonians  concerning  death     .  129 

XIV.  Mahaina 139 

XV.  TJie  musical  banks 145 

XVI.  Arowhena 161 

XVII.  Ydgrun  and  tlte  Ydgr  unites 172 

XVIII.  Birth  formulae .       .181 

XIX.  T/ie  world  of  the  unborn 188 

XX.  What  they  mean  by  it        .  *       .       .       .198 

XXI.  The  colleges  of  unreason    ......  20& 

xvli 


Contents 


CHAP.  PAGE 

XXII.  The  colleges  of  unreason  (continued)    .       .       .     219 

XXIII.  The  book  of  the  machines 232 

XXIV.  The  book  of  the  machines — (continued)       .       .241 
XXV.  The  book  of  the  machines — (concluded)       .        .254 

XXVI.  The  views  of  an  Erewhonian  propliet  concerning 

the  rights  of  animals 272 

XXVII.  TJie  views  of  an  Erewhonian  philosopher  con- 
cerning the  rights  of  vegetables         .       .       .283 

XXVIII.  Escape 295 

XXIX.  Conclusion .       .     310 


XV1I1 


INTRODUCTION 

A  moment  arrives  when  the  old  shell  of  custom 
goes  crackling  and  a  new  mental  era  is  hatched  out. 
Such  a  moment,  thanks  to  Darwin,  was  induced 
about  the  middle  of  the  English  nineteenth  century 
and  caught  Samuel  Butler  at  the  crisis  of  his  life. 

When  you  think  of  all  the  loyalties  to  which 
such  a  man  as  Butler  was  heir,  all  the  missions  and 
submissions  expected  of  him,  all  the  conformities 
and  deformities  insisted  upon,  you  realize  the  tor- 
tuousness  of  any  escape  he  could  manage  that  was 
to  be  more  than  a  mere  escape  into  the  desert. 
Butler's  great  novel,  "The  Way  of  All  Flesh/'  has 
preserved  the  special  environment  into  which  he 
was  born.  No  trifle  for  any  Englishman  amid  the 
upheavals  of  i860  to  reconcile  for  himself  the  old 
and  the  new,  it  was  particularly  difficult  for  the 
son  of  a  rigid  parson  reared  in  a  repressive  home. 
Butler  was  not,  indeed,  a  deferential  son.  He  was 
destined  for  the  church,  as  became  one  of  the  But- 
ler family,  but  after  he  left  Cambridge  in  1858  he 
found  it  was  impossible  to  go  on  to  ordination.  It 
was  characteristic  of  him  that  he  made  an  issue  on 
the  concrete  doctrine  of  the  efficacy  of  infant  bap- 
tism. Parish  work  among  the  poor  of  London  was 
more  than  his  faith  in  the  pretensions  of  that  par- 
ticular sacrament  could  stand.     It  was  not  in  his 

xix 


XX 


Introduction 


manner,  however,  to  leave  the  church  with  a  flour- 
ish. He  simply  left  England  for  New  Zealand  in 
1859,  to  rai^  sheep  for  the  market  instead  of  for 
heaven. 

The  ferment  into  which  Butler's  mind  was  thrown 
by  his  exile  to  Canterbury  Province  was  accelerated 
by  the  Darwin  explosive,  but  the  adjustment  he 
proceeded  to  bring  out  of  it  was  by  no  means  of  a 
Danvinian  kind.  He  had  had  his  dose  of  author- 
ity, in  the  first  place,  and  he  could  no  more  be  sub- 
servient to  scientific  dogma  than  to  the  church 
dogma  from  which  he  had  escaped.  He  was  not 
the  sort  of  person  merely  to  alter  the  subject-matter 
k  of  certitudes.  What  he  had  learned  from  giving  up 
his  career  and  his  country  was  the  difficulty  of  cer- 
titude itself,  the  relativity  of  values,  and  that  knowl- 
edge churned  in  him  so  steadily  as  to  demand  a  com- 
plete revaluation.  Because  of  his  temperament  the 
processes  of  that  revaluation  were  bound  to  be 
highly  individual.  He  was  above  all  a  person  of 
searching  mind.  If  he  had  clashed  with  his  father, 
moreover,  he  revered  his  eminent  grandfather  and 
the  sundering  of  his  early  relations  left  him  free 
but  bruised  and  made  any  new  commitment  quite 
difficult.  It  was  not  that  he  was  an  embittered 
idealist.  He  was  a  man  of  practical  imagination 
who  was  far  from  believing  that  the  only  alterna- 
tive to  a  mess  of  pottage  should  be  the  locust  and 
wild  honey  of  the  prophet.  Many  years  after  he 
had  declined  to  take  orders  himself  he  publicly  dis- 
cussed the  dilemma  of  the  wavering  clergyman  who 


Introduction  xxi 

must  jeopardize  his  family  if  he  expose  his  change 
of  heart,  and  in  such  a  predicament  Butler  coolly 
advised  lip-service.  That  sort  of  reasonableness 
was  the  fruit  of  his  own  mundane  experience.  He 
was  too  intelligent  and  too  scrupulous  not  to  be 
readily  aware  of  spiritual  discrepancies,  but  he  was 
too  skeptical  of  human  pretensions  to  have  any  pet 
ones  of  his  own.  Out  of  such  a  spirit,  deeply  in 
earnest  about  things  that  were  real  to  him  but  by 
no  means  cocksure  about  any  truth,  it  was  no  great 
wonder  there  should  have  come  such  a  many-sided 
satire  as  Erewhon. 

Some  satirists  are  content  to  make  brutal  on- 
slaught on  the  things  they  despise  in  civilization,  to 
credit  men  and  their  institutions  with  the  highest 
precepts  and  then  to  ridicule  them  for  their  mean 
performances.  This  kind  of  harsh  subversion  wras 
essentially  foreign  to  Butler.  Had  he  known 
Swift's  scarifying  experiences  of  place-hunting  and 
party  prostitution  it  is  quite  possible  he  would  have 
been  similarly  vengeful.  It  is  enough  to  point  out 
that  life  had  not  so  cruelly  victimized  him  and  that 
his  grievance  was  not  against  human  nature  or  the 
terms  of  life  as  such.  If  he  had  been  "a  man  un- 
duly combative,  strangely  prejudiced,  hopelessly  un- 
conventional," as  some  supposed  him,  one  might 
fairly  expect  his  sense  of  the  ridiculous  to  tear  loose 
like  Swift's  in  contemptuous  caricature  of  the  filthy 
human  race.  But  even  if  his  closest  friends  had  not 
known  "his  kindliness  and  his  strong  sense,  his  old- 
fashioned  courtesy  and  humor,"  one  soon  gathers 


XXI 1 


Introduction 


that  he  was  too  eagerly  speculative,  too  temperate, 
too  subtle,  to  permit  himself  the  savagery  of  Swift. 
He  was  not  a  misanthropist  but  a  critic,  ranging 
himself  against  no  particular  sect  or  cult  but  inimi- 
cal to  everything  that  pursued  an  inconsiderate 
course  making  for  a  poorly  organized  and  ugly  and 
hidebound  and  slavish  society. 

It  is  only  when  one  realizes  that  Erewhon  is  more 
than  an  England  in  satiric  guise,  is  in  fact  an 
Arcadia,  that  one  fully  appreciates  Samuel  Butler's 
spirit.  He  wanted  to  have  his  say  about  England, 
about  its  frauds  and  follies  in  religion  and  science 
and  justice  and  education,  but  also  he  wanted  to 
give  his  imagination  free  rein,  to  portray  a  human 
family  desirable  in  the  ways  that  he  himself  had 
hungrily  craved,  desirable  because  of  "simplicity, 
unconsciousness  of  self,  kindly  genial  manners,  and 
last,  but  not  least  by  their  exquisite  beauty."  In 
projecting  Erewhon  as  an  idyllic  land,  and  the  Ere- 
whonians  as  a  people  contrary  to  the  English,  among 
whom  reverse  conditions  could  be  seen  beautifully 
efficient,  Butler  undertook  the  impossible.  The  at- 
tempt, nevertheless,  speaks  eloquently  of  a  nostal- 
gia that  found  no  place  in  contemporary  science  or 
religion  and  wished  a  plague  on  both  their  noisy 
houses. 

One  may  well  emphasize  Samuel  Butler's  artis- 
tic accomplishment  in  this  volume.  Although  emi- 
nently a  satire,  recognized  as  such  from  the  be- 
ginning, Erewhon  clearly  obtained  a  good  deal  of 
its  initial  vogue  by  reason  of  its  happy  imagina- 


Introduction  xxm 

tiveness.  Whatever  the  scheme  back  of  any  nar- 
rative, its  success  does  not  so  much  depend  on 
the  moral  or  intellectual  excellence  of  its  purpose 
as  on  the  author's  contriving-  to  enlist  one's  imagina- 
tion beforehand,  to  effect  a  reciprocation  on  the 
basis  of  the  fortune  he  is  elaborating  and  the  reality 
it  seems  to  have  for  him  and  consequently  the  reality 
it  conveys.  The  thing  that  people  remember  about 
Robinson  Crusoe,  for  example,  is  not  Defoe's  la- 
bored moralizing — it  is  what  befalls  Robinson  Cru- 
soe. Where  the  author  is  so  fully  and  constantly 
inspired  by  his  hero's  experience  and  holds  to  it  as  a 
thrilling  and  wonderful  end  in  itself,  his  book  can 
scarcely  help  being  deeply  absorbing.  Charles  Reade 
called  one  of  his  stories  Put  Yourself  in  His  Place, 
and  in  doing  so  he  merely  named  this  first  principle 
of  all  stories — to  elicit  the  reader's  imagination  for 
the  actor's  adventure,  to  put  the  reader  in  the  actor's 
shoes.  That  is  what  Samuel  Butler  notably  accom- 
plishes with  the  fine  opening  of  Erewhon.  The  gift 
of  narrative  is  not  commonly  ascribed  to  him,  but 
he  stands  with  the  simple  English  best  in  at  least  the 
first  eight  chapters.  And  certainly  without  the  im- 
petus that  is  given  by  dispatching  the  Englishman 
on  his  journey  of  discovery,  without  the  perils  of  his 
lonely  climb,  the  awe  of  his  encounter  with  the  stat- 
ues, and  the  sunny  surprise  of  his  entrance  into  an 
Arcadia,  this  satire  would  have  made  little  more  im- 
pression than  Life  and  Habit  did,  or  Unconscious 
Memory  or  any  other  of  those  ponderable  works, 
ponderable  but  not  prehensile. 


xxiv  Introduction 

The  chief  animus  of  Erewhon  is,  of  course,  sa- 
tirical, and  there  is  almost  no  British  institution 
that  escapes  the  author's  cutting  attentions.  The 
parsons  hated  him  for  the  deadly  skill  of  his  ac- 
count of  the  Musical  Banks,  and  while  he  was  safe 
from  them  so  long  as  Erewhon  was  anonymous 
they  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  boycotting  of 
Butler's  subsequent  books.  The  depressing  circum- 
stance of  this  satire  is  its  pertinence  to-day.  Even 
more  pertinent,  because  more  consequential,  is  the 
satire  on  the  priesthood  of  education.  If  there  was 
anything  that  Butler  sharply  perceived  it  was  the 
way  the  elders  become  masters  of  an  institution 
and  run  it  for  their  own  sake  at  whatever  cost  to 
the  community.  The  Colleges  of  Unreason  and 
Hypothetics  hit  at  a  trait  in  human  nature  which 
anthropologists  are  never  tired  of  exposing.  One 
great  reason  why  Butler  made  enemies  by  Erewhon 
was  his  insistence  on  jealous  professionalism.  He 
refused  to  admit  that  any  one  could  have  a  vested 
right  in  an  area  of  the  spirit,  and  for  that  reason 
he  rubbed  every  authoritarian  precisely  the  wrong 
way. 

The  Book  of  the  Machines  is  doubly  interesting 
for  its  satire  and  its  imagination.  Combined  with 
its  criticism  of  the  exaggerated  versions  of  evo- 
lution, the  Book  contains  a  remarkable  specula- 
tion as  to  the  place  of  machinery  in  a  civilized 
world.  Man's  enslavement  by  the  machines  he  has 
created  is  one  dire  contingency  of  the  great  society, 
and  Butler  declined  to  shirk  it.     He  admitted  that 


Introduction  xxv 

man  becomes  powerful  almost  in  proportion  to  the 
machinery  by  which  he  extends  himself,  but  he  saw 
no  reason  for  believing  that  society  would  not  be 
subordinated  by  its  own  instruments.  The  great 
war  certainly  tends  to  bear  out  this  bitter  impres- 
sion of  a  race  conquered  by  its  own  devices.  It  is 
by  remaining  applicable  at  the  present  day,  inci- 
dentally, that  Ercwhon  reveals  Samuel  Butler's  con- 
cern with  essential  as  against  fashionable  issues. 

The  opening  satire  on  our  beastly  treatment  of 
criminals  remains  too  applicable  to  be  pleasant  in 
this  country,  where  Butler's  idea  that  vengeance  is 
a  monstrous  silliness  has  scarcely  penetrated  a  single 
legislature.  The  double-edged  notion  that  disease 
is  culpable  and  crime  to  be  commiserated  gave  op- 
portunity for  many  fine  ironies.  These  chapters 
alone,  if  there  were  no  Ydgrun  and  the  Ydgrunites, 
or  Rights  of  Animals  and  Rights  of  Vegetables, 
would  go  far  to  comfort  those  readers  who  are 
conscious  of  an  everlasting  necessity  for  squaring 
accounts  with  the  righteous. 

One  may  well  rejoice  that  it  was  with  Erewhon 
Samuel  Butler  started  his  literary  career.  It  is  per- 
haps unfortunate  that  for  so  long  his  first  publishers 
mournfully  beheld  him  as  homo  unites  libri  because 
of  Ercwhon' s  exclusive  success,  but  if  he  had 
stepped  off  with  any  one  of  his  dozen  limping  pub- 
lications it  is  highly  probable  that  soon  or  late  he 
would  have  actually  ceased  to  write.  In  over  twenty 
years,  after  all,  Life  and  Habit,  a  book  of  admirable 
brain-stuff,  sold  only  640  copies.    Luck  or  Cunning? 


XXVI 


Introduction 


appears  to  have  halted,  in  its  author's  lifetime,  after 
a  sale  of  284  copies,  and  The  Iliad  in  English  Prose 
after  157.  Among  the  financial  depressions  that 
were  created  by  these  tragic  failures,  and  by  those 
other  failures  which  Butler  encountered  whenever 
he  put  forth  a  new  book,  Erewhon  rises  up  like  a 
mountain  of  beautiful  prospect.  Issued  anony- 
mously in  1872,  it  made  headway  from  the  first, 
was  translated  into  Dutch  in  1873  and  into  German 
in  1879,  and  appeared  as  the  sole  item  on  the  right 
side  of  the  books  when  Butler  balanced  his  publish- 
ing accounts  in  1899.  In  that  shadow  of  discour- 
agement which  Butler  knew  so  well  one  may  be  sure 
he  was  mightily  cheered  by  his  recollection  of  suc- 
cess, and  on  this  score  alone  kept  taking  literary 
heart  of  grace. 

And  yet  fate  was  none  too  kind  over  even  Ere- 
zvhon.  The  fact  that  George  Meredith  did  not 
declare  its  genius  when  he  read  it  for  Chapman  and 
Hall  in  1871  indicates  that  it  was  never  entirely  safe 
to  leave  Erewhon  to  its  own  undemonstrative  pres- 
ence. It  is  charming  to  believe  that  good  wine 
needs  no  bush  of  ivy  to  tell  where  it  is,  but  there 
is  much  in  the  lugubrious  statement  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
"though  it  should  happen  that  an  author  is  capable 
of  excelling,  yet  his  merit  may  pass  without  notice, 
huddled  in  the  variety  of  things,  and  thrown  into 
the  general  miscellany  of  life."  It  is  even  truer,  as 
he  adds,  that  readers  "more  frequently  require  to 
be  reminded  than  informed."  This  alone  is  an  ex- 
cuse for  offering  an  introductory  note  to  Erewhon, 


Introduction  xxvii 

It  is  not  an  impeccable  work,  but  so  long  as  vision 
opens  life  and  wisdom  widens  it,  so  long  as  sym- 
pathy quickens  life  and  humor  corrects  it,  Erewhon 
will  have  its  commission.  It  can  only  cease  to  be 
pertinent  when  kindness  and  simplicity  and  beauty 
are  universal. 

Francis  Byrne  Hackett. 


Erewhon 


CHAPTER    I 

WASTE   LANDS 

If  the  reader  will  excuse  me,  I  will  say  nothing  of 
my  antecedents,  nor  of  the  circumstances  which 
led  me  to  leave  my  native  country;  the  narrative 
would  be  tedious  to  him  and  painful  to  myself. 
Suffice  it,  that  when  I  left  home  it  was  with  the 
intention  of  going  to  some  new  colony,  and  either 
finding,  or  even  perhaps  purchasing,  waste  crown 
land  suitable  for  cattle  or  sheep  farming,  by  which 
means  I  thought  that  I  could  better  my  fortunes 
more  rapidly  than  in  England. 

It  will  be  seen  that  I  did  not  succeed  in  my 
design,  and  that  however  much  I  may  have  met  with 
that  was  new  and  strange,  I  have  been  unable  to  reap 
any  pecuniary  advantage. 

It  is  true,  I  imagine  myself  to  have  made  a  dis- 
covery which,  if  I  can  be  the  first  to  profit  by  it, 
will  bring  me  a  recompense  beyond  all  money  com- 
putation, and  secure  me  a  position  such  as  has  not 
been  attained  by  more  than  some  fifteen  or  sixteen 
persons,  since  the  creation  of  the  universe.    But  to 

i 


Erewhon 


this  end  I  must  possess  myself  of  a  considerable 
sum  of  money :  neither  do  I  know  how  to  get  it, 
except  by  interesting  the  public  in  my  story,  and 
inducing  the  charitable  to  come  forward  and  assist 
me.  With  this  hope  I  now  publish  my  adventures; 
but  I  do  so  with  great  reluctance,  for  I  fear  that  my 
story  will  be  doubted  unless  I  tell  the  whole  of  it, 
and  yet  I  dare  not  do  so,  lest  others  with  more 
means  than  mine  should  get  the  start  of  me.  I 
prefer  the  risk  of  being  doubted  to  that  of  being 
anticipated,  and  have  therefore  concealed  my 
destination  on  leaving  England,  as  also  the  point 
from  which  I  began  my  more  serious  and  difficult 
journey. 

My  chief  consolation  lies  in  the  fact  that  truth 
bears  its  own  impress,  and  that  my  story  will  carry 
conviction  by  reason  of  the  internal  evidences  for  its 
accuracy.  No  one  who  is  himself  honest  will  doubt 
my  being  so. 

I  reached  my  destination  in  one  of  the  last  months 
of  1868,  but  I  dare  not  mention  the  season,  lest  the 
reader  should  gather  in  which  hemisphere  I  was. 
The  colony  was  one  which  had  not  been  opened  up 
even  to  the  most  adventurous  settlers  for  more  than 
eight  or  nine  years,  having  been  previously  unin- 
habited, save  by  a  few  tribes  of  savages  who  fre- 
quented the  seaboard.  The  part  known  to  Europeans 
consisted  of  a  coast-line  about  eight  hundred  miles 
in  length  (affording  three  or  four  good  harbors), 
and  a  tract  of  country  extending  inland  for  a  space 
varying  from  two  to  three  hundred  miles,  until  it 

2 


Waste  Lands 


reached  the  offshoots  of  an  exceedingly  lofty  range 
of  mountains,  which  could  be  seen  from  far  out 
upon  the  plains,  and  were  covered  with  perpetual 
snow.  The  coast  was  perfectly  well  known  both 
north  and  south  of  the  tract  to  which  I  have  alluded, 
but  in  neither  direction  was  there  a  single  harbor 
for  five  hundred  miles,  and  the  mountains,  which 
descended  almost  into  the  sea,  were  covered  with 
thick  timber,  so  that  none  would  think  of  settling. 

With  this  bay  of  land,  however,  the  case  was 
different.  The  harbors  were  sufficient ;  the  country 
was  timbered,  but  not  too  heavily ;  it  was  admirably 
suited  for  agriculture;  it  also  contained  millions  on 
millions  of  acres  of  the  most  beautifully  grassed 
country  in  the  world,  and  of  the  best  suited  for  all 
manner  of  sheep  and  cattle.  The  climate  was  tem- 
perate, and  very  healthy;  there  were  no  wild  ani- 
mals, nor  were  the  natives  dangerous,  being  few  in 
number  and  of  an  intelligent  tractable  disposition. 

It  may  be  readily  understood  that  when  once  Eu- 
ropeans set  foot  upon  this  territory  they  were  not 
slow  to  take  advantage  of  its  capabilities.  Sheep  and 
cattle  were  introduced,  and  bred  with  extreme  rapid- 
ity; men  took  up  their  50,000  or  100,000  acres  of 
country,  going  inland  one  behind  the  other,  till  in  a 
few  years  there  was  not  an  acre  between  the  sea 
and  the  front  ranges  which  was  not  taken  up,  and 
stations  either  for  sheep  or  cattle  were  spotted  about 
at  intervals  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  miles  over  the 
whole  country.  The  front  ranges  stopped  the  tide 
of  squatters  for  some  little  time;  it  was  thought 

3 


Erewhon 


that  there  was  too  much  snow  upon  them  for  too 
many  months  in  the  year, — that  the  sheep  would  get 
lost,  the  ground  being  too  difficult  for  shepherding, 
— that  the  expense  of  getting  wool  down  to  the 
ship's  side  would  eat  up  the  farmer's  profits, — and 
that  the  grass  was  too  rough  and  sour  for  sheep  to 
thrive  upon;  but  one  after  another  determined  to 
try  the  experiment,  and  it  was  wonderful  how  suc- 
cessfully it  turned  out.  Men  pushed  farther  and 
farther  into  the  mountains,  and  found  a  very  con- 
siderable tract  inside  the  front  range,  between  it 
and  another  which  was  loftier  still,  though  even  this 
was  not  the  highest,  the  great  snowy  one  which 
could  be  seen  from  out  upon  the  plains.  This  sec- 
ond range,  however,  seemed  to  mark  the  extreme 
limits  of  pastoral  country;  and  it  was  here,  at  a 
small  and  newly  founded  station,  that  I  was  received 
as  a  cadet,  and  soon  regularly  employed.  I  was 
then  just  twenty-two  years  old. 

I  was  delighted  with  the  country  and  the  manner 
of  life.  It  was  my  daily  business  to  go  up  to  the  top 
of  a  certain  high  mountain,  and  down  one  of  its 
spurs  on  to  the  flat,  in  order  to  make  sure  that  no 
sheep  had  crossed  their  boundaries.  I  was  to  see  the 
sheep,  not  necessarily  close  at  hand,  nor  to  get  them 
in  a  single  mob,  but  to  see  enough  of  them  here  and 
there  to  feel  easy  that  nothing  had  gone  wrong;  this 
was  no  difficult  matter,  for  there  were  not  above 
eight  hundred  of  them ;  and,  being  all  breeding  ewes, 
they  were  pretty  quiet. 

There  were  a  good  many  sheep  which  I  knew,  as 
4 


Waste  Lands 


two  or  three  black  ewes,  and  a  black  lamb  or  two, 
and  several  others  which  had  some  distinguishing 
mark  whereby  I  could  tell  them.  I  would  try  and 
see  all  these,  and  if  they  were  all  there,  and  the  mob 
looked  large  enough,  I  might  rest  assured  that  all 
was  well.  It  is  surprising  how  soon  the  eye  becomes 
accustomed  to  missing  twenty  sheep  out  of  two  or 
three  hundred.  I  had  a  telescope  and  a  dog,  and 
would  take  bread  and  meat  and  tobacco  with  me. 
Starting  with  early  dawn,  it  would  be  night  before  I 
could  complete  my  round;  for  the  mountain  over 
which  I  had  to  go  was  very  high.  In  winter  it  was 
covered  with  snow,  and  the  sheep  needed  no  watch- 
ing from  above.  If  I  were  to  see  sheep  dung  or 
tracks  going  down  on  to  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 
tain (where  there  was  a  valley  with  a  stream — a 
mere  cut  de  sac),  I  was  to  follow  them,  and  look 
out  for  sheep ;  but  I  never  saw  any,  the  sheep  always 
descending  on  to  their  own  side,  partly  from  habit, 
and  partly  because  there  was  abundance  of  good 
sweet  feed,  which  had  been  burnt  in  the  early 
spring,  just  before  I  came,  and  was  now  deliciously 
green  and  rich,  while  that  on  the  other  side  had 
never  been  burnt,  and  was  rank  and  coarse. 

It  was  a  monotonous  life,  but  it  was  very  healthy ; 
and  one  does  not  much  mind  anything  when  one  is 
well.  The  country  was  the  grandest  that  can  be 
imagined.  How  often  have  I  sat  on  the  mountain 
side  and  watched  the  waving  downs,  with  the  two 
white  specks  of  huts  in  the  distance,  and  the  little 
square  of  garden  behind  them;  the  paddock  with  a 

5 


Erewhon 


patch  of  bright  green  oats  above  the  huts,  and  the 
yards  and  wool-sheds  down  on  the  fiat  below;  all 
seen  as  through  the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope,  so 
clear  and  brilliant  was  the  air,  or  as  upon  a  colossal 
model  or  map  spread  out  beneath  me.  Beyond  the 
downs  was  a  plain,  going  down  to  a  river  of  great 
size,  on  the  farther  side  of  which  there  were  other 
high  mountains,  with  the  winter's  snow  still  not 
quite  melted;  up  the  river,  which  ran  winding  in 
many  streams  over  a  bed  some  two  miles  broad,  I 
looked  upon  the  second  great  chain,  and  could  see 
a  narrow  gorge  where  the  river  retired  and  was  lost. 
I  knew  that  there  was  a  range  still  farther  back ;  but 
except  from  one  place  near  the  very  top  of  my  own 
mountain,  no  part  of  it  was  visible:  from  this  point, 
however,  I  saw,  whenever  there  were  no  clouds,  a 
single  snow-clad  peak,  many  miles  away,  and  I 
should  think  about  as  high  as  any  mountain  in  the 
world.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  utter  loneliness  of 
the  prospect — only  the  little  far-away  homestead 
giving  sign  of  human  handiwork ; — the  vastness  of 
mountain  and  plain,  of  river  and  sky ;  the  marvelous 
atmospheric  effects — sometimes  black  mountains 
against  a  white  sky,  and  then  again,  after  cold 
weather,  white  mountains  against  a  black  sky — 
sometimes  seen  through  breaks  and  swirls  of  cloud 
— and  sometimes,  which  was  best  of  all,  I  went  up 
my  mountain  in  a  fog,  and  then  got  above  the  mist ; 
going  higher  and  higher,  I  would  look  down  upon  a 
sea  of  whiteness,  through  which  would  be  thrust  in- 
numerable mountain  tops  that  looked  like  islands. 

6 


Waste  Lands 


I  am  there  now,  as  I  write ;  I  fancy  that  I  can  see 
the  downs,  the  huts,  the  plain,  and  the  river-bed — 
that  torrent  pathway  of  desolation,  with  its  distant 
roar  of  waters.  Oh,  wonderful!  wonderful!  so 
lonely  and  so  solemn,  with  the  sad  gray  clouds 
above,  and  no  sound  save  a  lost  lamb  bleating  upon 
the  mountain  side,  as  though  its  little  heart  were 
breaking.  Then  there  comes  some  lean  and  withered 
old  ewe,  with  deep  gruff  voice  and  unlovely  aspect, 
trotting  back  from  the  seductive  pasture;  now  she 
examines  this  gully,  and  now  that,  and  now  she 
stands  listening  with  uplifted  head,  that  she  may 
hear  the  distant  wailing  and  obey  it.  Aha !  they  see, 
and  rush  towards  each  other.  Alas!  they  are  both 
mistaken;  the  ewe  is  not  the  lamb's  ewe,  they  are 
neither  kin  nor  kind  to  one  another,  and  part  in 
coldness.  Each  must  cry  louder,  and  wander  far- 
ther yet ;  may  luck  be  with  them  both  that  they  may 
find  their  own  at  nightfall.  But  this  is  mere  dream- 
ing, and  I  must  proceed. 

I  could  not  help  speculating  upon  what  might  lie 
farther  up  the  river  and  behind  the  second  range.  I 
had  no  money,  but  if  I  could  only  find  workable 
country,  I  might  stock  it  with  borrowed  capital,  and 
consider  myself  a  made  man.  True,  the  range  looked 
so  vast,  that  there  seemed  little  chance  of  getting  a 
sufficient  road  through  it  or  over  it ;  but  no  one  had 
yet  explored  it,  and  it  is  wonderful  how  one  finds 
that  one  can  make  a  path  into  all  sorts  of  places 
(and  even  get  a  road  for  pack-horses),  which  from 
a  distance  appear  inaccessible ;  the  river  was  so  great 

7 


Erewhon 


that  it  must  drain  an  inner  tract — at  least  I  thought 
so ;  and  though  every  one  said  it  would  be  madness 
to  attempt  taking  sheep  farther  inland,  I  knew  that 
only  three  years  ago  the  same  cry  had  been  raised 
against  the  country  which  my  master's  flock  was 
now  overrunning.  I  could  not  keep  these  thoughts 
out  of  my  head  as  I  would  rest  myself  upon  the 
mountain  side ;  they  haunted  me  as  I  went  my  daily 
rounds,  and  grew  upon  me  from  hour  to  hour,  till  I 
resolved  that  after  shearing  I  would  remain  in  doubt 
no  longer,  but  saddle  my  horse,  take  as  much  pro- 
vision with  me  as  I  could,  and  go  and  see  for  my- 
self. 

But  over  and  above  these  thoughts  came  that  of 
the  great  range  itself.  What  was  beyond  it?  Ah! 
who  could  say?  There  was  no  one  in  the  whole 
world  who  had  the  smallest  idea,  save  those  who 
were  themselves  on  the  other  side  of  it — if,  indeed, 
there  was  any  one  at  all.  Could  I  hope  to  cross  it  ? 
This  would  be  the  highest  triumph  that  I  could  wish 
for ;  but  it  was  too  much  to  think  of  yet.  I  would 
try  the  nearer  range,  and  see  how  far  I  could  go. 
Even  if  I  did  not  find  country,  might  I  not  find  gold, 
or  diamonds,  or  copper,  or  silver?  I  would  some- 
times lie  flat  down  to  drink  out  of  a  stream,  and 
could  see  little  yellow  specks  among  the  sand ;  were 
these  gold  ?  People  said  no ;  but  then  people  always 
said  there  was  no  gold  until  it  was  found  to  be  abun- 
dant :  there  was  plenty  of  slate  and  granite,  which  I 
had  always  understood  to  accompanv  gold ;  and  even 

8 


Waste  Lands 


though  it  was  not  found  in  paying  quantities  here, 
it  might  be  abundant  in  the  main  ranges.  These 
thoughts  filled  my  head,  and  I  could  not  banish 
them. 


9 


CHAPTER    II 

IN   THE   WOOL-SHED 

At  last  shearing  came ;  and  with  the  shearers  there 
was  an  old  native,  whom  they  had  nicknamed  Chow- 
bok — though,  I  believe,  his  real  name  was  Kaha- 
buka.  He  was  a  sort  of  chief  of  the  natives,  could 
speak  a  little  English,  and  was  a  great  favorite  with 
the  missionaries.  He  did  not  do  any  regular  work 
with  the  shearers,  but  pretended  to  help  in  the  yards, 
his  real  aim  being  to  get  the  grog,  which  is  always 
more  freely  circulated  at  shearing-time:  he  did  not 
get  much,  for  he  was  apt  to  be  dangerous  when 
drunk ;  and  very  little  would  make  him  so :  still  he 
did  get  it  occasionally,  and  if  one  wanted  to  get  any- 
thing out  of  him,  it  was  the  best  bribe  to  offer  him. 
I  resolved  to  question  him,  and  get  as  much  infor- 
mation from  him  as  I  could.  I  did  so.  As  long  as 
I  kept  to  questions  about  the  nearer  ranges,  he  was 
easy  to  get  on  with — he  had  never  been  there,  but 
there  were  traditions  among  his  tribe  to  the  effect 
that  there  was  no  sheep-country,  nothing,  in 
fact,  but  stunted  timber  and  a  few  river-bed  flats. 
It  was  very  difficult  to  reach ;  still  there  were  passes : 
one  of  them  up  our  own  river,  though  not  directly 
along  the  river-bed,  the  gorge  of  which  was  not 
practicable ;  he  had  never  seen  any  one  who  had  been 

10 


In  the  Wool-shed 


there:  was  there  not  enough  on  this  side?  But 
when  I  came  to  the  main  range,  his  manner  changed 
at  once.  He  became  uneasy,  and  began  to  prevari- 
cate and  shuffle.  In  a  very  few  minutes  I  could  see 
that  of  this  too  there  existed  traditions  in  his  tribe; 
but  no  efforts  or  coaxing  could  get  a  word  from  him 
about  them.  At  last  I  hinted  about  grog,  and  pres- 
ently he  feigned  consent :  I  gave  it  him ;  but  as  soon 
as  he  had  drunk  it  he  began  shamming  intoxication, 
and  then  went  to  sleep,  or  pretended  to  do  so,  letting 
me  kick  him  pretty  hard  and  never  budging. 

I  was  angry,  for  I  had  to  go  without  my  own 
grog  and  had  got  nothing  out  of  him ;  so  the  next 
day  I  determined  that  he  should  tell  me  before  I 
gave  him  any,  or  get  none  at  all. 

Accordingly,  when  night  came  and  the  shearers 
had  knocked  off  work  and  had  their  supper,  I  got  my 
share  of  rum  in  a  tin  pannikin  and  made  a  sign  to 
Chowbok  to  follow  me  to  the  wool-shed,  which  he 
willingly  did,  slipping  out  after  me,  and  no  one 
taking  any  notice  of  either  of  us.  When  we  got 
down  to  the  wool-shed  we  lit  a  tallow  candle,  and 
having  stuck  it  in  an  old  bottle  we  sat  down  upon  the 
wool  bales  and  began  to  smoke.  A  wool-shed  is  a 
roomy  place,  built  somewhat  on  the  same  plan  as  a 
cathedral,  with  aisles  on  either  side  full  of  pens  for 
the  sheep,  a  great  nave,  at  the  upper  end  of  which 
the  shearers  work,  and  a  further  space  for  wool 
sorters  and  packers.  It  always  refreshed  me  with  a 
semblance  of  antiquity  (precious  in  a  new  country), 
though  I  very  well  knew  that  the  oldest  wool-shed 

ii 


Erewhon 


in  the  settlement  was  not  more  than  seven  years  old, 
while  this  was  only  two.  Chowbok  pretended  to  ex- 
pect his  grog  at  once,  though  we  both  of  us  knew 
very  well  what  the  other  was  after,  and  that  we 
were  each  playing  against  the  other,  the  one  for 
grog  the  other  for  information. 

We  had  a  hard  fight :  for  more  than  two  hours  he 
had  tried  to  put  me  off  with  lies  but  had  carried  no 
conviction;  during  the  whole  time  we  had  been 
morally  wrestling  with  one  another  and  had  neither 
of  us  apparently  gained  the  least  advantage;  at 
length,  however,  I  had  become  sure  that  he  would 
give  in  ultimately,  and  that  with  a  little  further  pa- 
tience I  should  get  his  story  out  of  him.  As  upon 
a  cold  day  in  winter,  when  one  has  churned  (as  I 
had  often  had  to  do),  and  churned  in  vain,  and  the 
butter  makes  no  sign  of  coming,  at  last  one  tells  by 
the  sound  that  the  cream  has  gone  to  sleep,  and  then 
upon  a  sudden  the  butter  comes,  so  I  had  churned  at 
Chowbok  until  I  perceived  that  he  had  arrived,  as 
it  were,  at  the  sleepy  stage,  and  that  with  a  con- 
tinuance of  steady  quiet  pressure  the  day  was  mine. 
On  a  sudden,  without  a  word  of  warning,  he  rolled 
two  bales  of  wool  (his  strength  was  very  great) 
into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  on  the  top  of  these 
he  placed  another  crosswise;  he  snatched  up  an 
empty  wool-pack,  threw  it  like  a  mantle  over  his 
shoulders,  jumped  upon  the  uppermost  bale,  and  sat 
upon  it.  In  a  moment  his  whole  form  was  changed. 
His  high  shoulders  dropped ;  he  set  his  feet  close  to- 
gether, heel  to  heel  and  toe  to  toe ;  he  laid  his  arms 

12 


In  the  Wool-shed 


and  hands  close  alongside  of  his  body,  the  palms 
following  his  thighs ;  he  held  his  head  high  but  quite 
straight,  and  his  eyes  stared  right  in  front  of  him; 
but  he  frowned  horribly,  and  assumed  an  expression 
of  face  that  was  positively  fiendish.  At  the  best  of 
times  Chowbok  was  very  ugly,  but  he  now  exceeded 
all  conceivable  limits  of  the  hideous.  His  mouth 
extended  almost  from  ear  to  ear,  grinning  horribly 
and  showing  all  his  teeth;  his  eyes  glared,  though 
they  remained  quite  fixed,  and  his  forehead  was  con- 
tracted with  a  most  malevolent  scowl. 

I  am  afraid  my  description  will  have  conveyed 
only  the  ridiculous  side  of  his  appearance;  but  the 
ridiculous  and  the  sublime  are  near,  and  the  gro- 
tesque fiendishness  of  Chowbok's  face  approached 
this  last,  if  it  did  not  reach  it.  I  tried  to  be  amused, 
but  I  felt  a  sort  of  creeping  at  the  roots  of  my  hair 
and  over  my  whole  body,  as  I  looked  and  wondered 
what  he  could  possibly  be  intending  to  signify.  He 
continued  thus  for  about  a  minute,  sitting  bolt  up- 
right, as  stiff  as  a  stone,  and  making  this  fearful 
face.  Then  there  came  from  his  lips  a  low  moaning 
like  the  wind,  rising  and  falling  by  infinitely  small 
gradations  till  it  became  almost  a  shriek,  from 
which  it  descended  and  died  away;  after  that,  he 
jumped  down  from  the  bale  and  held  up  the  ex- 
tended fingers  of  both  his  hands  as  one  who  should 
say  "Ten,"  though  I  did  not  then  understand  him. 

For  myself  I  was  open-mouthed  with  astonish- 
ment. Chowbok  rolled  the  bales  rapidly  into  their 
place,  and  stood  before  me  shuddering  as  in  great 

13 


Erewhon 


fear;  horror  was  written  upon  his  face — this  time 
quite  involuntarily — as  though  the  natural  panic  of 
one  who  had  committed  an  awful  crime  against  un- 
known and  superhuman  agencies.  He  nodded  his 
head  and  gibbered,  and  pointed  repeatedly  to  the 
mountains.  He  would  not  touch  the  grog,  but,  after 
a  few  seconds  he  made  a  run  through  the  wool-shed 
door  into  the  moonlight;  nor  did  he  reappear  till 
next  day  at  dinner-time,  when  he  turned  up,  looking 
very  sheepish  and  abject  in  his  civility  towards  my- 
self. 

Of  his  meaning  I  had  no  conception.  How  could 
I  ?  All  I  could  feel  sure  of  was,  that  he  had  a  mean- 
ing which  was  true  and  awful  to  himself.  It  was 
enough  for  me  that  I  believed  him  to  have  given  me 
the  best  he  had  and  all  he  had.  This  kindled  my 
imagination  more  than  if  he  had  told  me  intelligible 
stories  by  the  hour  together.  I  knew  not  what  the 
great  snowy  ranges  might  conceal,  but  I  could  no 
longer  doubt  that  it  would  be  something  well  worth 
discovering. 

I  kept  aloof  from  Chowbok  for  the  next  few  days, 
and  showed  no  desire  to  question  him  further ;  when 
I  spoke  to  him  I  called  him  Kahabuka,  which  grati- 
fied him  greatly :  he  seemed  to  have  become  afraid 
of  me,  and  acted  as  one  who  was  in  my  power. 
Having  therefore  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
begin  exploring  as  soon  as  shearing  was  over,  I 
thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  take  Chowbok 
with  me;  so  I  told  him  that  I  meant  going  to  the 
nearer  ranges  for  a  few  days'  prospecting,  and  that 

14 


In  the  Wool-shed 


he  was  to  come  too.  I  made  him  promises  of  nightly 
grog,  and  held  out  the  chances  of  finding  gold.  I 
said  nothing  about  the  main  range,  for  I  knew  it 
would  frighten  him.  I  would  get  him  as  far  up  our 
own  river  as  I  could,  and  trace  it  if  possible  to  its 
source.  I  would  then  either  go  on  by  myself,  if  I 
felt  my  courage  equal  to  the  attempt,  or  return  with 
Chowbok.  So,  as  soon  as  ever  shearing  was  over 
and  the  wool  sent  off,  I  asked  leave  of  absence,  and 
obtained  it.  Also,  I  bought  an  old  pack-horse  and 
pack-saddle,  so  that  I  might  take  plenty  of  pro- 
visions, and  blankets,  and  a  small  tent.  I  was  to 
ride  and  find  fords  over  the  river;  Chowbok  was 
to  follow  and  lead  the  pack-horse,  which  would  also 
carry  him  over  the  fords.  My  master  let  me  have 
tea  and  sugar,  ship's  biscuits,  tobacco,  and  salt  mut- 
ton, with  two  or  three  bottles  of  good  brandy;  for, 
as  the  wool  was  now  sent  down,  abundance  of  pro- 
visions would  come  up  with  the  empty  drays. 

Everything  being  now  ready,  all  the  hands  on  the 
station  turned  out  to  see  us  off,  and  we  started  on 
our  journey,  not  very  long  after  the  summer  solstice 
of  1870. 


15 


CHAPTER    III. 

UP  THE  RIVER 

The  first  day  we  had  an  easy  time,  following  up  the 
great  flats  by  the  river  side,  which  had  already  been 
twice  burned,  so  that  there  was  no  dense  under- 
growth to  check  us,  though  the  ground  was  often 
rough,  and  we  had  to  go  a  good  deal  upon  the  river- 
bed. Towards  nightfall  we  had  made  a  matter  of 
some  five-and-twenty  miles,  and  camped  at  the  point 
where  the  river  entered  upon  the  gorge. 

The  weather  was  delightfully  warm,  considering 
that  the  valley  in  which  we  were  encamped  must 
have  been  at  least  two  thousand  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea.  The  river-bed  was  here  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  broad  and  entirely  covered  with  shingle 
over  which  the  river  ran  in  many  winding  channels, 
looking,  when  seen  from  above,  like  a  tangled  skein 
of  ribbon,  and  glistening  in  the  sun.  We  knew  that 
it  was  liable  to  very  sudden  and  heavy  freshets ;  but 
even  had  we  not  known  it,  we  could  have  seen  it  by 
the  snags  of  trees,  which  must  have  been  carried 
long  distances,  and  by  the  mass  of  vegetable  and 
mineral  debris  which  was  banked  against  their  lower 
side,  showing  that  at  times  the  whole  river-bed  must 
be  covered  with  a  roaring  torrent  many  feet  in  depth 
and  of  ungovernable  fury.    At  present  the  river  was 

16 


Up  the  River 


low,  there  being  but  five  or  six  streams,  too  deep  and 
rapid  for  even  a  strong  man  to  ford  on  foot,  but 
to  be  crossed  safely  on  horseback.  On  either  side 
of  it  there  were  still  a  few  acres  of  flat,  which  grew 
wider  and  wider  down  the  river,  till  they  became 
the  large  plains  on  which  we  looked  from  my  mas- 
ter's hut.  Behind  us  rose  the  lowest  spurs  of  the 
second  range,  leading  abruptly  to  the  range  itself; 
and  at  a  distance  of  half  a  mile  began  the  gorge, 
where  the  river  narrowed  and  became  boisterous 
and  terrible.  The  beauty  of  the  scene  cannot  be 
conveyed  in  language.  The  one  side  of  the  valley 
was  blue  with  evening  shadow,  through  which 
loomed  forest  and  precipice,  hillside  and  mountain 
top ;  and  the  other  was  still  brilliant  with  the  sunset 
gold.  The  wide  and  wasteful  river  with  its  cease- 
less rushing — the  beautiful  water-birds  too,  which 
abounded  upon  the  islets  and  were  so  tame  that  we 
could  come  close  up  to  them — the  ineffable  purity 
of  the  air — the  solemn  peace  fulness  of  the  untrod- 
den region — could  there  be  a  more  delightful  and 
exhilarating  combination  ? 

We  set  about  making  our  camp,  close  to  some 
large  bush  which  came  down  from  the  mountains 
on  to  the  flat,  and  tethered  out  our  horses  upon 
ground  as  free  as  we  could  find  it  from  anything 
round  which  they  might  wind  the  rope  and  get 
themselves  tied  up.  We  dared  not  let  them  run 
loose,  lest  they  might  stray  down  the  river  home 
again.  We  then  gathered  wood  and  lit  the  fire.  We 
filled  a  tin  pannikin  with  water  and  set  it  against 

17 


Erewhon 


the  hot  ashes  to  boil.  When  the  water  boiled  we 
threw  in  two  or  three  large  pinches  of  tea  and  let 
them  brew. 

We  had  caught  half  a  dozen  young  ducks  in  the 
course  of  the  day — an  easy  matter,  for  the  old  birds 
made  such  a  fuss  in  attempting  to  decoy  us  away 
from  them — pretending  to  be  badly  hurt  as  they 
say  the  plover  does — that  we  could  always  find  them 
by  going  about  in  the  opposite  direction  to  the  old 
bird  till  we  heard  the  young  ones  crying:  then  we 
ran  them  down,  for  they  could  not  fly  though  they 
were  nearly  full  grown.  Chowbok  plucked  them  a 
little  and  singed  them  a  good  deal.  Then  we  cut 
them  up  and  boiled  them  in  another  pannikin,  and 
this  completed  our  preparations. 

When  we  had  done  supper  it  was  quite  dark.  The 
silence  and  freshness  of  the  night,  the  occasional 
sharp  cry  of  the  wood-hen,  the  ruddy  glow  of  the 
fire,  the  subdued  rushing  of  the  river,  the  somber 
forest,  and  the  immediate  foreground  of  our  saddle 
packs  and  blankets,  made  a  picture  worthy  of  a  Sal- 
vator  Rosa  or  a  Nicolas  Poussin.  I  call  it  to  mind 
and  delight  in  it  now,  but  I  did  not  notice  it  at  the 
time.  We  next  to  never  know  when  we  are  well  off : 
but  this  cuts  two  ways, — for  if  we  did,  we  should 
perhaps  know  better  when  we  are  ill  off  also ;  and  I 
have  sometimes  thought  that  there  are  as  many  ig- 
norant of  the  one  as  of  the  other.  He  who  wrote, 
"0  fortunatos  nimium  sua  si  bona  norint  agrkolas," 
might  have  written  quite  as  truly,  "0  infortunatos 
nimium  sua  si  mala  norint" ;  and  there  are  few  of  us 

18 


Up  the  River 


who  are  not  protected  from  the  keenest  pain  by  our 
inability  to  see  what  it  is  that  we  have  done,  what 
we  are  suffering,  and  what  we  truly  are.  Let  us  be 
grateful  to  the  mirror  for  revealing  to  us  our  ap- 
pearance only. 

We  found  as  soft  a  piece  of  ground  as  we  could — 
though  it  was  all  stony — and  having  collected  grass 
and  so  disposed  of  ourselves  that  we  had  a  little 
hollow  for  our  hip-bones,  we  strapped  our  blankets 
around  us  and  went  to  sleep.  Waking  in  the  night 
I  saw  the  stars  overhead  and  the  moonlight  bright 
upon  the  mountains.  The  river  was  ever  rushing; 
I  heard  one  of  our  horses  neigh  to  its  companion, 
and  was  assured  that  they  were  still  at  hand ;  I  had 
no  care  of  mind  or  body,  save  that  I  had  doubtless 
many  difficulties  to  overcome;  there  came  upon  me 
a  delicious  sense  of  peace,  a  fullness  of  contentment 
which  I  do  not  believe  can  be  felt  by  any  but  those 
who  have  spent  days  consecutively  on  horseback,  or 
at  any  rate  in  the  open  air. 

Next  morning  we  found  our  last  night's  tea-leaves 
frozen  at  the  bottom  of  the  pannikins,  though  it  was 
not  nearly  the  beginning  of  autumn ;  we  breakfasted 
as  we  had  supped,  and  were  on  our  way  by  six 
o'clock.  In  half  an  hour  we  had  entered  the  gorge, 
and  turning  round  a  corner  we  bade  farewell  to  the 
last  sight  of  my  master's  country. 

The  gorge  was  narrow  and  precipitous;  the  river 
was  now  only  a  few  yards  wide,  and  roared  and 
thundered  against  rocks  of  many  tons  in  weight ;  the 

19 


Erewhon 


sound  was  deafening,  for  there  was  a  great  volume 
of  water.  We  were  two  hours  in  making  less  than 
a  mile,  and  that  with  danger,  sometimes  in  the  river 
and  sometimes  on  the  rock.  There  was  that  damp 
black  smell  of  rocks  covered  with  slimy  vegetation, 
as  near  some  huge  waterfall  where  spray  is  ever 
rising.  The  air  was  clammy  and  cold.  I  cannot 
conceive  how  our  horses  managed  to  keep  their  foot- 
ing, especially  the  one  with  the  pack,  and  I  dreaded 
the  having  to  return  almost  as  much  as  going  for- 
ward. I  suppose  this  lasted  three  miles,  but  it  was 
well  midday  when  the  gorge  got  a  little  wider,  and 
a  small  stream  came  into  it  from  a  tributary  valley. 
Farther  progress  up  the  main  river  was  impossible, 
for  the  cliffs  descended  like  walls;  so  we  went  up 
the  side  stream,  Chowbok  seeming  to  think  that  here 
must  be  the  pass  of  which  reports  existed  among  his 
people.  We  now  incurred  less  of  actual  danger  but 
more  fatigue,  and  it  was  only  after  infinite  trouble, 
owing  to  the  rocks  and  tangled  vegetation,  that  we 
got  ourselves  and  our  horses  upon  the  saddle  from 
which  this  small  stream  descended;  by  that  time 
clouds  had  descended  upon  us,  and  it  was  raining 
heavily.  Moreover,  it  was  six  o'clock  and  we  were 
tired  out,  having  made  perhaps  six  miles  in  twelve 
hours. 

On  the  saddle  there  was  some  coarse  grass  which 
was  in  full  seed,  and  therefore  very  nourishing  for 
the  horses ;  also  abundance  of  anise  and  sow-thistle, 
of  which  they  are  extravagantly  fond,  so  we  turned 

20 


Up  the  River 


them  loose  and  prepared  to  camp.  Everything  was 
soaking  wet  and  we  were  half-perished  with  cold; 
indeed  we  were  very  uncomfortable.  There  was 
brushwood  about,  but  we  could  get  no  fire  till  we 
had  shaved  off  the  wet  outside  of  some  dead 
branches  and  filled  our  pockets  with  the  dry  inside 
chips.  Having  done  this  we  managed  to  start  a  fire, 
nor  did  we  allow  it  to  go  out  when  we  had  once 
started  it;  we  pitched  the  tent  and  by  nine  o'clock 
were  comparatively  warm  and  dry.  Next  morning 
it  was  fine;  we  broke  camp,  and  after  advancing  a 
short  distance  wTe  found  that,  by  descending  over 
ground  less  difficult  than  yesterday's,  w£  should 
come  again  upon  the  river-bed,  which  had  opened 
out  above  the  gorge;  but  it  was  plain  ac  a  glance 
that  there  was  no  available  sheep  country,  nothing 
but  a  few  flats  covered  with  scrub  on  either  side  the 
river,  and  mountains  which  were  perfectly  worth- 
less. But  we  could  see  the  main  range.  Tiere  was 
no  mistake  about  this.  The  glaciers  were  vunbling 
down  the  mountain  sides  like  cataracts,  and  j^emed 
actually  to  descend  upon  the  river-bed;  thtfe  could 
be  no  serious  difficulty  in  reaching  them  ly  follow- 
ing up  the  river,  which  was  wide  and  opn;  but  it 
seemed  rather  an  objectless  thing  to  do,  frf  the  main 
range  looked  hopeless,  and  my  curiosit'  about  the 
nature  of  the  country  above  the  gorge  wts  now  quite 
satisfied ;  there  was  no  money  in  it  whoever,  unless 
there  should  be  minerals,  of  which  I  &w  no  more 
signs  than  lower  down. 

21 


Erewhon 


However,  I  resolved  that  I  would  follow  the  river 
up,  and  not  return  until  I  was  compelled  to  do  so.  I 
would  go  up  every  branch  as  far  as  I  could,  and 
wash  well  for  gold.  Chowbok  liked  seeing  me  do 
this,  but  it  never  came  to  anything,  for  we  did  not 
evsn  find  the  color.  His  dislike  of  the  main  range 
appeared  to  have  worn  off,  and  he  made  no  objec- 
tions to  approaching  it.  I  think  he  thought  there 
was  no  danger  of  my  trying  to  cross  it,  and  he  was 
not  airaid  of  anything  on  this  side;  besides,  we 
might  f  nd  gold.  But  the  fact  was  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  what  to  do  if  he  saw  me  getting  too 
near  it. 

We  passed  three  weeks  in  exploring,  and  never 
did  I  find  time  go  more  quickly.  The  weather  was 
fine,  though,  the  nights  got  very  cold.  We  followed 
every  stream  but  one,  and  always  found  it  lead  us 
to  a  glacer  which  was  plainly  impassable,  at  any 
rate  without  a  larger  party  and  ropes.  One  stream 
remained,  which  I  should  have  followed  up  already, 
had  not  Chowbok  said  that  he  had  risen  early  one 
morniii£  while  I  was  yet  asleep,  and  after  going  up 
it  for  tiree  or  four  miles,  had  seen  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  go  farther.  I  had  long  ago  discovered 
that  he  vas  a  great  liar,  so  I  was  bent  on  going  up 
myself:  n  brief,  I  did  so:  so  far  from  being  im- 
possible, i  was  quite  easy  traveling ;  and  after  five 
or  six  mils  I  saw  a  saddle  at  the  end  of  it,  which, 
though  co\tred  deep  in  snow,  was  not  glaciered, 
and  which  iid  verily  appear  to  be  part  of  the  main 
range  itseli     No  words  can  express  the  intensity 

22 


Up  the  River 


of  my  delight.  My  blood  was  all  on  fire  with  hope 
and  elation;  but  on  looking  round  for  Chowbok, 
who  was  behind  me,  I  saw  to  my  surprise  and  anger 
that  he  had  turned  back,  and  was  going  down  the 
valley  as  hard  as  he  could.    He  had  left  me. 


23 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  SADDLE 

I  cooeyed  to  him,  but  he  would  not  hear.  I  ran 
after  him,  but  he  had  got  too  good  a  start.  Then  I 
sat  down  on  a  stone  and  thought  the  matter  care- 
fully over.  It  was  plain  that  Chowbok  had  de- 
signedly attempted  to  keep  me  from  going  up  this 
valley,  yet  he  had  shown  no  unwillingness  to  follow 
me  anywhere  else.  What  could  this  mean,  unless 
that  I  was  now  upon  the  route  by  which  alone  the 
mysteries  of  the  great  ranges  could  be  revealed? 
What  then  should  I  do?  Go  back  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  it  had  become  plain  that  I  was  on  the 
right  scent?  Hardly;  yet  to  proceed  alone  would 
be  both  difficult  and  dangerous.  It  would  be  bad 
enough  to  return  to  my  master's  run,  and  pass 
through  the  rocky  gorges,  with  no  chance  of  help 
from  another  should  I  get  into  a  difficulty;  but  to 
advance  for  any  considerable  distance  without  a 
companion  would  be  next  door  to  madness.  Acci- 
dents which  are  slight  when  there  is  another  at  hand 
(as  the  spraining  of  an  ankle,  or  the  falling  into 
some  place  whence  escape  would  be  easy  by  means 
of  an  outstretched  hand  and  a  bit  of  rope)  may  be 
fatal  to  one  who  is  alone.  The  more  I  pondered 
the  less  I  liked  it;  and  yet,  the  less  could  I  make 

24 


The  Saddle 


up  my  mind  to  return  when  I  looked  at  the  saddle 
at  the  head  of  the  valley,  and  noted  the  compara- 
tive ease  with  which  its  smooth  sweep  of  snow 
might  be  surmounted :  I  seemed  to  see  my  way  al- 
most from  my  present  position  to  the  very  top. 
After  much  thought,  I  resolved  to  go  forward  until 
I  should  come  to  some  place  which  was  really  dan- 
gerous, but  then  to  return.  I  should  thus,  I  hoped, 
at  any  rate  reach  the  top  of  the  saddle,  and  satisfy 
myself  as  to  what  might  be  on  the  other  side. 

I  had  no  time  to  lose,  for  it  was  now  between  ten 
and  eleven  in  the  morning.  Fortunately  I  was  well 
equipped,  for  on  leaving  the  camp  and  the  horses  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  valley  I  had  provided  myself 
|( according  to  my  custom)  with  everything  that  I 
was  likely  to  want  for  four  or  five  days.  Chowbok 
had  carried  half,  but  had  dropped  his  whole  swag — 
I  suppose,  at  the  moment  of  his  taking  flight — for  I 
came  upon  it  when  I  ran  after  him.  I  had,  there- 
fore, his  provisions  as  well  as  my  own.  Accord- 
ingly, I  took  as  many  biscuits  as  I  thought  I  could 
carry,  and  also  some  tobacco,  tea,  and  a  few 
matches.  I  rolled  all  these  things  (together  with  a 
flask  nearly  full  of  brandy,  which  I  had  kept  in  my 
pocket  for  fear  lest  Chowbok  should  get  hold  of  it) 
inside  my  blankets,  and  strapped  them  very  tightly, 
making  the  whole  into  a  long  roll  of  some  seven 
feet  in  length  and  six  inches  in  diameter.  Then  I 
tied  the  two  ends  together,  and  put  the  whole  round 
my  neck  and  over  one  shoulder.  This  is  the  easiest 
way  of  carrying  a  heavy  swag,  for  one  can  rest  one's 

25 


Erewhon 


self  by  shifting  the  burden  from  one  shoulder  to  the 
other.  I  strapped  my  pannikin  and  a  small  ax 
about  my  waist,  and  thus  equipped  began  to  ascend 
the  valley,  angry  at  having  been  misled  by  Chow- 
bok,  but  determined  not  to  return  till  I  was  com- 
pelled to  do  so. 

I  crossed  and  recrossed  the  stream  several  times 
without  difficulty,  for  there  were  many  good  fords. 
At  one  o'clock  I  was  at  the  foot  of  the  saddle;  for 
four  hours  I  mounted,  the  last  two  on  the  snow, 
where  the  going  was  easier;  by  five,  I  was  within 
ten  minutes  of  the  top,  in  a  state  of  excitement 
greater,  I  think,  than  I  had  ever  known  before.  Ten 
minutes  more,  and  the  cold  air  from  the  other  side 
came  rushing  upon  me. 

A  glance.    I  was  not  on  the  main  range. 

Another  glance.  There  was  an  awful  river, 
muddy  and  horribly  angry,  roaring  over  an  im- 
mense river-bed,  thousands  of  feet  below  me. 

It  went  round  to  the  westward,  and  I  could  see  no 
farther  up  the  valley,  save  that  there  were  enormous 
glaciers  which  must  extend  round  the  source  of  the 
river,  and  from  which  it  must  spring. 

Another  glance,  and  then  I  remained  motionless. 

There  was  an  easy  pass  in  the  mountains  directly 
opposite  to  me,  through  which  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  an  immeasurable  extent  of  blue  and  distant 
plains. 

Easy?  Yes,  perfectly  easy;  grassed  nearly  to  the 
summit,  which  was,  as  it  were,  an  open  path  be- 
tween two  glaciers,  from  which  an  inconsiderable 

26 


The  Saddle 


stream  came  tumbling  down  over  rough  but  very- 
possible  hillsides,  till  it  got  down  to  the  level  of  the 
great  river,  and  formed  a  flat  where  there  was  grass 
and  a  small  bush  of  stunted  timber. 

Almost  before  I  could  believe  my  eyes,  a  cloud 
had  come  up  from  the  valley  on  the  other  side,  and 
the  plains  were  hidden.  What  wonderful  luck  was 
mine!  Had  I  arrived  five  minutes  later,  the  cloud 
would  have  been  over  the  pass,  and  I  should  not 
have  known  of  its  existence.  Now  that  the  cloud 
was  there,  I  began  to  doubt  my  memory,  and  to  be 
uncertain  whether  it  had  been  more  than  a  blue  line 
of  distant  vapor  that  had  filled  up  the  opening.  I 
could  only  be  certain  of  this  much,  namely,  that  the 
river  in  the  valley  below  must  be  the  one  next  to  the 
northward  of  that  which  flowed  past  my  master's 
station;  of  this  there  could  be  no  doubt.  Could  I, 
however,  imagine  that  my  luck  should  have  led  me 
up  a  wrong  river  in  search  of  a  pass,  and  yet 
brought  me  to  the  spot  where  I  could  detect  the  one 
weak  place  in  the  fortifications  of  a  more  northern 
basin?  This  was  too  improbable.  But  even  as  I 
doubted  there  came  a  rent  in  the  cloud  opposite,  and 
a  second  time  I  saw  blue  lines  of  heaving  downs, 
growing  gradually  fainter,  and  retiring  into  a  far 
space  of  plain.  It  was  substantial ;  there  had  been 
no  mistake  whatsoever.  I  had  hardly  made  myself 
perfectly  sure  of  this,  ere  the  rent  in  the  clouds 
joined  up  again  and  I  could  see  nothing  more. 

What,  then,  should  I  do?  The  night  would  be 
upon  me  shortly,  and  I  was  already  chilled  with 

27 


Erewhon 


standing  still  after  the  exertion  of  climbing.  To 
stay  where  I  was  would  be  impossible ;  I  must  either 
go  backwards  or  forwards.  I  found  a  rock  which 
gave  me  shelter  from  the  evening  wind,  and  took  a 
good  pull  at  the  brandy  flask,  which  immediately 
warmed  and  encouraged  me. 

I  asked  myself,  Could  I  descend  upon  the  river- 
bed beneath  me?  It  was  impossible  to  say  what 
precipices  might  prevent  my  doing  so.  If  I  were  on 
the  river-bed,  dare  I  cross  the  river?  I  am  an  ex- 
cellent swimmer,  yet,  once  in  that  frightful  rush  of 
waters,  I  should  be  hurled  whithersoever  it  willed, 
absolutely  powerless.  Moreover,  there  was  my 
swag;  I  should  perish  of  cold  and  hunger  if  I  left 
it,  but  I  should  certainly  be  drowned  if  I  attempted 
to  carry  it  across  the  river.  These  were  serious  con- 
siderations, but  the  hope  of  finding  an  immense 
tract  of  available  sheep  country  (which  I  was  deter- 
mined that  I  would  monopolize  as  far  as  I  possibly 
could)  sufficed  to  outweigh  them;  and,  in  a  few 
minutes,  I  felt  resolved  that,  having  made  so  im- 
portant a  discovery  as  a  pass  into  a  country  which 
was  probably  as  valuable  as  that  on  our  own  side 
of  the  ranges,  I  would  follow  it  up  and  ascertain  its 
value,  even  though  I  should  pay  the  penalty  of  fail- 
ure with  life  itself.  The  more  I  thought,  the  more 
determined  I  became  either  to  win  fame  and  perhaps 
fortune,  by  entering  upon  this  unknown  world,  or 
give  up  life  in  the  attempt.  In  fact,  I  felt  that  life 
would  be  no  longer  valuable  if  I  were  to  have  seen 

28 


The  Saddle 


so  great  a  prize  and  refused  to  grasp  at  the  possible 
profits  therefrom. 

I  had  still  an  hour  of  good  daylight  during  which 
I  might  begin  my  descent  on  to  some  suitable  camp- 
ing-ground, but  there  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 
At  first  I  got  along  rapidly,  for  I  was  on  the  snow, 
and  sank  into  it  enough  to  save  me  from  falling, 
though  I  went  forward  straight  down  the  mountain 
side  as  fast  as  I  could ;  but  there  was  less  snow  on 
this  side  than  on  the  other,  and  I  had  soon  done  with 
it,  getting  on  to  a  coomb  of  dangerous  and  very 
stony  ground,  where  a  slip  might  have  given  me  a 
disastrous  fall.  But  I  was  careful  with  all  my  speed, 
and  got  safely  to  the  bottom,  where  there  were 
patches  of  coarse  grass,  and  an  attempt  here  and 
there  at  brushwood :  what  was  below  this  I  could 
not  see.  I  advanced  a  few  hundred  yards  farther, 
and  found  that  I  was  on  the  brink  of  a  frightful 
precipice,  which  no  one  in  his  senses  would  attempt 
descending.  I  bethought  me,  however,  to  try  the 
creek  which  drained  the  coomb,  and  see  whether  it 
might  not  have  made  itself  a  smoother  way.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  found  myself  at  the  upper  end  of  a 
chasm  in  the  rocks,  something  like  Twll  Dhu,  only 
on  a  greatly  larger  scale;  the  creek  had  found  its 
way  into  it,  and  had  worn  a  deep  channel  through 
a  material  which  appeared  softer  than  that  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  mountain.  I  believe  it  must  have 
been  a  different  geological  formation,  though  I  re- 
gret to  say  that  I  cannot  tell  what  it  was. 

I  looked  at  this  rift  in  great  doubt;  then  I  went 
29 


Erewhon 


a  little  way  on  either  side  of  it,  and  found  myself 
looking  over  the  edge  of  horrible  precipices  on  to 
the  river,  which  roared  some  four  or  five  thousand 
feet  below  me.  I  dared  not  think  of  getting  down 
at  all,  unless  I  committed  myself  to  the  rift,  of 
which  I  was  hopeful  when  I  reflected  that  the  rock 
was  soft,  and  that  the  water  might  have  worn  its 
channel  tolerably  evenly  through  the  whole  extent. 
The  darkness  was  increasing  with  every  minute,  but 
I  should  have  twilight  for  another  half -hour,  so  I 
went  into  the  chasm  (though  by  no  means  without 
fear),  and  resolved  to  return  and  camp,  and  try 
some  other  path  next  day,  should  I  come  to  any  seri- 
ous difficulty.  In  about  five  minutes  I  had  com- 
pletely lost  my  head;  the  side  of  the  rift  became 
hundreds  of  feet  in  height,  and  overhung  so  that  I 
could  not  see  the  sky.  It  was  full  of  rocks,  and  I 
had  many  falls  and  bruises.  I  was  wet  through 
from  falling  into  the  water,  of  which  there  was  no 
great  volume,  but  it  had  such  force  that  I  could  do 
nothing  against  it;  once  I  had  to  leap  down  a  not 
inconsiderable  waterfall  into  a  deep  pool  below,  and 
my  swag  was  so  heavy  that  I  was  very  nearly 
drowned.  I  had  indeed  a  hair's-breadth  escape;  but, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  Providence  was  on  my  side. 
Shortly  afterwards  I  began  to  fancy  that  the  rift 
was  getting  wider,  and  that  there  was  more  brush- 
wood. Presently  I  found  myself  on  an  open  grassy 
slope,  and  feeling  my  way  a  little  farther  along  the 
stream,  I  came  upon  a  flat  place  with  wood,  where  I 

30 


The  Saddle 


could  camp  comfortably;  which  was  well,  for  it  was 
now  quite  dark. 

My  first  care  was  for  my  matches ;  were  they  dry  ? 
The  outside  of  my  swag  had  got  completely  wet; 
but,  on  undoing  the  blankets,  I  found  things  warm 
and  dry  within.  How  thankful  I  was!  I  lit  a  fire, 
and  was  grateful  for  its  warmth  and  company.  I 
made  myself  some  tea  and  ate  two  of  my  biscuits: 
my  brandy  I  did  not  touch,  for  I  had  little  left,  and 
might  want  it  when  my  courage  failed  me.  All  that 
I  did,  I  did  almost  mechanically,  for  I  could  not 
realize  my  situation  to  myself,  beyond  knowing  that 
I  was  alone,  and  that  return  through  the  chasm 
which  I  had  just  descended  would  be  impossible. 
It  is  a  dreadful  feeling  that  of  being  cut  off  from  all 
one's  kind.  I  was  still  full  of  hope,  and  built  golden 
castles  for  myself  as  soon  as  I  was  warmed  with  food 
and  fire;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  any  man  could 
long  retain  his  reason  in  such  solitude,  unless  he  had 
the  companionship  of  animals.  One  begins  doubting 
one's  own  identity. 

I  remember  deriving  comfort  even  from  the  sight 
of  my  blankets,  and  the  sound  of  my  watch  ticking 
— things  which  seemed  to  link  me  to  other  people; 
but  the  screaming  of  the  wood-hens  frightened  me, 
as  also  a  chattering  bird  which  I  had  never  heard 
before,  and  which  seemed  to  laugh  at  me ;  though  I 
soon  got  used  to  it,  and  before  long  could  fancy  that 
it  was  many  years  since  I  had  first  heard  it. 

I  took  off  my  clothes,  and  wrapped  my  inside 
blanket  about  me,  till  my  things  were  dry.     The 

31 


Erewhon 


night  was  very  still,  and  I  made  a  roaring-  fire ;  so  I 
soon  got  warm,  and  at  last  could  put  my  clothes  on 
again.  Then  I  strapped  my  blanket  round  me,  and 
went  to  sleep  as  near  the  fire  as  I  could. 

I  dreamed  that  there  was  an  organ  placed  in  my 
master's  wool-shed :  the  wool-shed  faded  away,  and 
the  organ  seemed  to  grow  and  grow  amid  a  blaze  of 
brilliant  light,  till  it  became  like  a  golden  city  upon 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  with  rows  upon  rows  of 
pipes  set  in  cliffs  and  precipices,  one  above  the  other, 
and  in  mysterious  caverns,  like  that  of  Fingal, 
within  whose  depths  I  could  see  the  burnished  pil- 
lars gleaming.  In  the  front  there  was  a  flight  of 
lofty  terraces,  at  the  top  of  which  I  could  see  a  man 
with  his  head  buried  forward  towards  a  key-board, 
and  his  body  swaying  from  side  to  side  amid  the 
storm  of  huge  arpeggioed  harmonies  that  came 
crashing  overhead  and  round.  Then  there  was  one 
who  touched  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "Do  you 
not  see?  it  is  Handel"; — but  I  had  hardly  appre- 
hended, and  was  trying  to  scale  the  terraces,  and  get 
near  him,  when  I  awoke,  dazzled  with  the  vivid- 
ness and  distinctness  of  the  dream. 

A  piece  of  wood  had  burned  through,  and  the 
ends  had  fallen  into  the  ashes  with  a  blaze :  this,  I 
supposed,  had  both  given  me  my  dream  and  robbed 
me  of  it.  I  was  bitterly  disappointed,  and  sitting  up 
on  my  elbow,  came  back  to  reality  and  my  strange 
surroundings  as  best  I  could. 

I  was  thoroughly  aroused — moreover,  I  felt  a 
foreshadowing  as  though  my  attention  were  ar- 

32 


The  Saddle 


rested  by  something  more  than  the  dream,  although 
no  sense  in  particular  was  as  yet  appealed  to.  I  held 
my  breath  and  waited,  and  then  I  heard — was  it 
fancy  ?  Nay ;  I  listened  again  and  again,  and  I  did 
hear  a  faint  and  extremely  distant  sound  of  music, 
like  that  of  an  iEolian  harp,  borne  upon  the  wind 
which  was  blowing  fresh  and  chill  from  the  opposite 
mountains. 

The  roots  of  my  hair  thrilled.  I  listened,  but  the 
wind  had  died ;  and,  fancying  that  it  must  have  been 
the  wind  itself — no;  on  a  sudden  I  remembered  the 
noise  which  Chowbok  had  made  in  the  wool-shed. 
Yes;  it  was  that. 

Thank  Heaven,  whatever  it  was,  it  was  over  now. 
I  reasoned  with  myself,  and  recovered  my  firmness. 
I  became  convinced  that  I  had  only  been  dreaming 
more  vividly  than  usual.  Soon  I  began  even  to 
laugh,  and  think  what  a  fool  I  was  to  be  frightened 
at  nothing,  reminding  myself  that  even  if  I  were  to 
come  to  a  bad  end  it  would  be  no  such  dreadful 
matter  after  all.  I  said  my  prayers,  a  duty  which  I 
had  too  often  neglected,  and  in  a  little  time  fell  into 
a  really  refreshing  sleep,  which  lasted  till  broad  day- 
light, and  restored  me.  I  rose,  and  searching  among 
the  embers  of  my  fire,  I  found  a  few  live  coals  and 
soon  had  a  blaze  again.  I  got  breakfast,  and  was 
delighted  to  have  the  company  of  several  small 
birds,  which  hopped  about  me  and  perched  on  my 
boots  and  hands.  I  felt  comparatively  happy,  but  I 
can  assure  the  reader  that  I  had  had  a  far  worse 
time  of  it  than  I  have  told  him ;  and  I  strongly  rec- 

33, 


Erewhon 


ommend  him  to  remain  in  Europe  if  he  can;  or,  at 
any  rate,  in  some  country  which  has  been  explored 
and  settled,  rather  than  go  into  places  where  others 
have  not  been  before  him.  Exploring  is  delightful 
to  look  forward  to  and  back  upon,  but  it  is  not  com- 
fortable at  the  time,  unless  it  be  of  such  an  easy 
nature  as  not  to  deserve  the  name. 


34 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  RIVER  AND  THE  RANGE 

My  next  business  was  to  descend  upon  the  river.  I 
had  lost  sight  of  the  pass  which  I  had  seen  from  the 
saddle,  but  had  made  such  notes  of  it  that  I  could 
not  fail  to  find  it.  I  was  bruised  and  stiff,  and  my 
boots  had  begun  to  give,  for  I  had  been  going  on 
rough  ground  for  more  than  three  weeks;  but,  as 
the  day  wore  on,  and  I  found  myself  descending 
without  serious  difficulty,  I  became  easier.  In  a 
couple  of  hours  I  got  among  pine  forests  where 
there  was  little  undergrowth,  and  descended  quickly 
till  I  reached  the  edge  of  another  precipice,  which 
gave  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  though  I  eventually 
managed  to  avoid  it.  By  about  three  or  four  o'clock 
I  found  myself  on  the  river-bed. 

From  calculations  which  I  made  as  to  the  height 
of  the  valley  on  the  other  side  the  saddle  over  which 
I  had  come,  I  concluded  that  the  saddle  itself  could 
not  be  less  than  nine  thousand  feet  high;  and  I 
should  think  that  the  river-bed,  on  to  which  I  now 
descended,  was  three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level.  The  water  had  a  terrific  current,  with  a  fall 
of  not  less  than  forty  to  fifty  feet  per  mile.  It  was 
certainly  the  river  next  to  the  northward  of  that 
which  flowed  past  my  master's  run,  and  would  have 

35 


Erewhon 


to  go  through  an  impassable  gorge  (as  is  commonly 
the  case  with  the  rivers  of  that  country)  before  it 
came  upon  known  parts.  It  was  reckoned  to  be 
nearly  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea-level  where 
it  came  out  of  the  gorge  on  to  the  plains. 

As  soon  as  I  got  to  the  river  side  I  liked  it  even 
less  than  I  thought  I  should.  It  was  muddy,  being 
near  its  parent  glaciers.  The  stream  was  wide, 
rapid,  and  rough,  and  I  could  hear  the  smaller  stones 
knocking  against  each  other  under  the  rage  of  the 
waters,  as  upon  a  seashore.  Fording  was  out  of 
the  question.  I  could  not  swim  and  carry  my  swag, 
and  I  dared  not  leave  my  swag  behind  me.  My  only 
chance  was  to  make  a  small  raft ;  and  that  would  be 
difficult  to  make,  and  not  at  all  safe  when  it  was 
made, — not  for  one  man  in  such  a  current. 

As  it  was  too  late  to  do  much  that  afternoon,  I 
spent  the  rest  of  it  in  going  up  and  down  the  river 
side,  and  seeing  where  I  should  find  the  most  favor- 
able crossing.  Then  I  camped  early,  and  had  a  quiet 
comfortable  night  with  no  more  music,  for  which  I 
was  thankful,  as  it  had  haunted  me  all  day,  although 
I  perfectly  well  knew  that  it  had  been  nothing  but 
my  own  fancy,  brought  on  by  the  reminiscence  of 
what  I  had  heard  from  Chowbok  and  by  the  over- 
excitement  of  the  preceding  evening. 

Next  day  I  began  gathering  the  dry  bloom  stalks 
of  a  kind  of  flag  or  iris-looking  plant,  which  was 
abundant,  and  whose  leaves,  when  torn  into  strips, 
were  as  strong  as  the  strongest  string.  I  brought 
them  to  the  waterside,  and  fell  to  making  myself  a 

36 


River  and  Range 


kind  of  rough  platform,  which  should  suffice  for 
myself  and  my  swag  if  I  could  only  stick  to  it.  The 
stalks  were  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  and  very  strong, 
but  light  and  hollow.  I  made  my  raft  entirely  of 
them,  binding  bundles  of  them  at  right  angles  to 
each  other,  neatly  and  strongly,  with  strips  from  the 
leaves  of  the  same  plant,  and  tying  other  rods 
across.  It  took  me  all  day  till  nearly  four  o'clock 
to  finish  the  raft,  but  I  had  still  enough  daylight  for 
crossing,  and  resolved  on  doing  so  at  once. 

I  had  selected  a  place  where  the  river  was  broad 
and  comparatively  still,  some  seventy  or  eighty 
yards  above  a  furious  rapid.  At  this  spot  I  had  built 
my  raft.  I  now  launched  it,  made  my  swag  fast  to 
the  middle,  and  got  on  to  it  myself,  keeping  in  my 
hand  one  of  the  longest  blossom  stalks,  so  that  I 
might  punt  myself  across  as  long  as  the  water  was 
shallow  enough  to  let  me  do  so.  I  got  on  pretty  well 
for  twenty  or  thirty  yards  from  the  shore,  but  even 
in  this  short  space  I  nearly  upset  my  raft  by  shifting 
too  rapidly  from  one  side  to  the  other.  The  water 
then  became  much  deeper,  and  I  leaned  over  so  far 
in  order  to  get  the  bloom  rod  to  the  bottom  that  I 
had  to  stay  still,  leaning  on  the  rod  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. Then,  when  I  lifted  up  the  rod  from  the 
ground,  the  current  was  too  much  for  me  and  I 
found  myself  being  carried  down  the  rapid.  Every- 
thing in  a  second  flew  past  me,  and  I  had  no  more 
control  over  the  raft ;  neither  can  I  remember  any- 
thing except  hurry,  and  noise,  and  waters  which  in 
the  end  upset  me.    But  it  all  came  right,  and  I  found 

37 


Erewhon 


myself  near  the  shore,  not  more  than  up  to  my 
knees  in  water  and  pulling  my  raft  to  land,  fortu- 
nately upon  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  which  was 
the  one  I  wanted.  When  I  had  landed  I  found  that 
I  was  about  a  mile,  or  perhaps  a  little  less,  below  the 
point  from  which  I  started.  My  swag  was  wet  upon 
the  outside,  and  I  was  myself  dripping;  but  I  had 
gained  my  point,  and  knew  that  my  difficulties  were 
for  a  time  over.  I  then  lit  my  fire  and  dried  myself ; 
having  done  so  I  caught  some  of  the  young  ducks 
and  sea-gulls,  which  were  abundant  on  and  near  the 
river-bed,  so  that  I  had  not  only  a  good  meal,  of 
which  I  was  in  great  want,  having  had  an  insuffi- 
cient diet  from  the  time  that  Chowbok  left  me,  but 
was  also  well  provided  for  the  morrow. 

I  thought  of  Chowbok,  and  felt  how  useful  he 
had  been  to  me,  and  in  how  many  ways  I  was  the 
loser  by  his  absence,  having  now  to  do  all  sorts  of 
things  for  myself  which  he  had  hitherto  done  for 
me,  and  could  do  infinitely  better  than  I  could. 
Moreover,  I  had  set  my  heart  upon  making  him  a 
real  convert  to  the  Christian  religion,  which  he  had 
already  embraced  outwardly,  though  I  cannot  think 
that  it  had  taken  deep  root  in  his  impenetrably  stu- 
pid nature.  I  used  to  catechize  him  by  our  camp 
fire,  and  explain  to  him  the  mysteries  of  the  Trin- 
ity and  of  original  sin,  with  which  I  was  myself 
familiar,  having  been  the  grandson  of  an  arch- 
deacon by  my  mother's  side,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
fact  that  my  father  was  a  clergyman  of  the  English 
Church.     I  was  therefore  sufficiently  qualified  for 

38 


River  and  Range 


the  task,  and  was  the  more  inclined  to  it,  over  and 
above  my  real  desire  to  save  the  unhappy  creature 
from  an  eternity  of  torture,  by  recollecting  the 
promise  of  St.  James,  that  if  any  one  converted  a 
sinner  (which  Chowbok  surely  was)  he  should  hide 
a  multitude  of  sins.  I  reflected,  therefore,  that  the 
conversion  of  Chowbok  might  in  some  degree  com- 
pensate for  irregularities  and  shortcomings  in  my 
own  previous  life,  the  remembrance  of  which  had 
been  more  than  once  unpleasant  to  me  during  my  re- 
cent experiences. 

Indeed,  on  one  occasion  I  had  even  gone  so  far  as 
to  baptize  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  having  ascertained 
that  he  had  certainly  not  been  both  christened  and 
baptized,  and  gathering  (  from  his  telling  me  that  he 
had  received  the  name  William  from  the  mission- 
ary) that  it  was  probably  the  first-mentioned  rite  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected.  I  thought  it  great 
carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  missionary  to  have 
omitted  the  second,  and  certainly  more  important, 
ceremony  which  I  have  always  understood  precedes 
christening  both  in  the  case  of  infants  and  of  adult 
converts;  and  when  I  thought  of  the  risks  we  were 
both  incurring  I  determined  that  there  should  be 
no  further  delay.  Fortunately  it  was  not  yet  twelve 
o'clock,  so  I  baptized  him  at  once  from  one  of  the 
pannikins  (the  only  vessels  I  had)  reverently,  and 
I  trust,  efficiently.  I  then  set  myself  to  work  to  in- 
struct him  in  the  deeper  mysteries  of  our  belief,  and 
to  make  him,  not  only  in  name,  but  in  heart  a  Chris- 
tian. 

39 


Erewhon 


It  is  true  that  I  might  not  have  succeeded,  for 
Chowbok  was  very  hard  to  teach.  Indeed,  on  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  that  I  baptized  him  he 
tried  for  the  twentieth  time  to  steal  the  brandy, 
which  made  me  rather  unhappy  as  to  whether  I  could 
have  baptized  him  rightly.  He  had  a  prayer-book 
— more  than  twenty  years  old — which  had  been 
given  him  by  the  missionaries,  but  the  only  thing  in 
it  which  had  taken  any  living  hold  upon  him  was 
the  title  of  Adelaide  the  Queen  Dowager,  which  he 
would  repeat  whenever  strongly  moved  or  touched, 
and  which  did  really  seem  to  have  some  deep  spirit- 
ual significance  to  him,  though  he  could  never  com- 
pletely separate  her  individuality  from  that  of  Mary 
Magdalene,  whose  name  had  also  fascinated  him, 
though  in  a  less  degree. 

He  was  indeed  stony  ground,  but  by  digging  about 
him  I  might  have  at  any  rate  deprived  him  of  all 
faith  in  the  religion  of  his  tribe,  which  would  have 
been  half  way  towards  making  him  a  sincere  Chris- 
tian; and  now  all  this  was  cut  off  from  me,  and  I 
could  neither  be  of  further  spiritual  assistance  to 
him  nor  he  of  bodily  profit  to  myself :  besides,  any 
company  was  better  than  being  quite  alone. 

I  got  very  melancholy  as  these  reflections  crossed 
me,  but  when  I  had  boiled  the  ducks  and  eaten  them 
I  was  much  better.  I  had  a  little  tea  left  and  about 
a  pound  of  tobacco,  which  should  last  me  for  an- 
other fortnight  with  moderate  smoking.  I  had  also 
eight  ship  biscuits,  and,  most  precious  of  all,  about 

40 


River  and  Range 


six  ounces  of  brandy,  which  I  presently  reduced  to 
four,  for  the  night  was  cold. 

I  rose  with  early  dawn,  and  in  an  hour  I  was  on 
my  way,  feeling  strange,  not  to  say  weak,  from  the 
burden  of  solitude,  but  full  of  hope  when  I  con- 
sidered how  many  dangers  I  had  overcome,  and  that 
this  day  should  see  me  at  the  summit  of  the  dividing 
range. 

After  a  slow  but  steady  climb  of  between  three 
and  four  hours,  during  which  I  met  with  no  serious 
hindrance,  I  found  myself  upon  a  tableland,  and 
close  to  a  glacier  which  I  recognized  as  marking 
the  summit  of  the  pass.  Above  it  towered  a  suc- 
cession of  rugged  precipices  and  snowy  mountain 
sides.  The  solitude  was  greater  than  I  could  bear; 
the  mountain  upon  my  master's  sheep-run  was  a 
crowded  thoroughfare  in  comparison  with  this  som- 
ber sullen  place.  The  air,  moreover,  was  dark  and 
heavy,  which  made  the  loneliness  even  more  oppres- 
sive. There  was  an  inky  gloom  over  all  that  was 
not  covered  with  snow  and  ice.  Grass  there  was 
none. 

Each  moment  I  felt  increasing  upon  me  that 
dreadful  doubt  as  to  my  own  identity — as  to  the 
continuity  of  my  past  and  present  existence — which 
is  the  first  sign  of  that  distraction  which  comes  on 
those  who  have  lost  themselves  in  the  bush.  I  had 
fought  against  this  feeling  hitherto,  and  had  con- 
quered it ;  but  the  intense  silence  and  gloom  of  this 
rocky  wilderness  were  too  much  for  me,  and  I  felt 

4i 


Erewhon 


that  my  power  of  collecting  myself  was  beginning- 
to  be  impaired. 

I  rested  for  a  little  while,  and  then  advanced 
over  very  rough  ground,  until  I  reached  the  lower 
end  of  the  glacier.  Then  I  saw  another  glacier, 
descending  from  the  eastern  side  into  a  small  lake. 
I  passed  along  the  western  side  of  the  lake,  where 
the  ground  was  easier,  and  when  I  had  got  about 
half  way  I  expected  that  I  should  see  the  plains 
which  I  had  already  seen  from  the  opposite  moun- 
tains ;  but  it  was  not  to  be  so,  for  the  clouds  rolled 
up  to  the  very  summit  of  the  pass,  though  they  did 
not  overlip  it  on  to  the  side  from  which  I  had  come. 
I  therefore  soon  found  myself  enshrouded  by  a  cold 
thin  vapor,  which  prevented  my  seeing  more  than 
a  very  few  yards  in  front  of  me.  Then  I  came  upon 
a  large  patch  of  old  snow,  in  which  I  could  distinctly 
trace  the  half -melted  tracks  of  goats — and  in  one 
place,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  there  had  been  a  dog  fol- 
lowing them.  Had  I  lighted  upon  a  land  of  shep- 
herds? The  ground,  where  not  covered  with  snow, 
wa§  so  poor  and  stony,  and  there  was  so  little  herb- 
age, that  I  could  see  no  sign  of  a  path  or  regular 
sheep-track.  But  I  could  not  help  feeling  rather 
uneasy  as  I  wondered  what  sort  of  a  reception  I 
might  meet  with  if  I  were  to  come  suddenly  upon 
inhabitants.  I  was  thinking  of  this,  and  proceed- 
ing cautiously  through  the  mist,  when  I  began  to 
fancy  that  I  saw  some  objects  darker  than  the  cloud 
looming  in  front  of  me.  A  few  steps  brought  me 
nearer,  and  a  shudder  of  unutterable  horror  ran 

42 


River  and  Range 


through  me  when  I  saw  a  circle  of  gigantic  forms, 
nany  times  higher  than  myself,  upstanding  grim 
i.nd  gray  through  the  veil  of  cloud  before  me. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  fainted,  for  I  found  my- 
self some  time  afterwards  sitting  upon  the  ground, 
sick  and  deadly  cold.  There  were  the  figures,  quite 
still  and  silent,  seen  vaguely  through  the  thick  gloom, 
but  in  human  shape  indisputably. 

A  sudden  thought  occurred  to  me,  which  would 
have  doubtless  struck  me  at  once  had  I  not  been  pre- 
possessed with  forebodings  at  the  time  that  I  first 
saw  the  figures,  and  had  not  the  cloud  concealed 
them  from  me — I  mean  that  they  were  not  living 
beings,  but  statues.  I  determined  that  I  would  count 
fifty  slowly,  and  was  sure  that  the  objects  were 
not  alive  if  during  that  time  I  could  detect  no  sign 
of  motion. 

How  thankful  was  I  when  I  came  to  the  end  of 
my  fifty  and  there  had  been  no  movement ! 

I  counted  a  second  time — but  again  all  was  still. 

I  then  advanced  timidly  forward,  and  in  another 
moment  I  saw  that  my  surmise  was  correct.  I 
had  come  upon  a  sort  of  Stonehenge  of  rude  and 
barbaric  figures,  seated  as  Chowbok  had  sat  when 
I  questioned  him  in  the  wool-shed,  and  with  the 
same  superhumanly  malevolent  expression  upon 
their  faces.  They  had  been  all  seated,  but  two  had 
fallen.  They  were  barbarous — neither  Egyptian, 
nor  Assyrian,  nor  Japanese — different  from  any  of 
these,  and  yet  akin  to  all.  They  were  six  or  seven 
times  larger  than  life,  of  great  antiquity,  worn  and 

43 


Erewhon 


lichen  grown.  They  were  ten  in  number.  There 
was  snow  upon  their  heads  and  wherever  snow  could 
lodge.  Each  statue  had  been  built  of  four  or  five 
enormous  blocks,  but  how  these  had  been  raised  and 
put  together  is  known  to  those  alone  who  raised 
them.  Each  was  terrible  after  a  different  kind. 
One  was  raging  furiously,  as  in  pain  and  great 
despair ;  another  was  lean  and  cadaverous  wTith  fam- 
ine; another  cruel  and  idiotic,  but  with  the  silliest 
simper  that  can  be  conceived — this  one  had  fallen, 
and  looked  exquisitely  ludicrous  in  his  fall — the 
mouths  of  all  were  more  or  less  open,  and  as  I 
looked  at  them  from  behind,  I  saw  that  their  heads 
had  been  hollowed. 

I  was  sick  and  shivering  with  cold.  Solitude  had 
unmanned  me  already,  and  I  was  utterly  unfit  to 
have  come  upon  such  an  assembly  of  fiends  in  such 
a  dreadful  wilderness  and  without  preparation.  I 
would  have  given  everything  I  had  in  the  world  to 
have  been  back  at  my  master's  station ;  but  that  was 
not  to  be  thought  of:  my  head  was  failing,  and  I 
felt  sure  that  I  could  never  get  back  alive. 

Then  came  a  gust  of  howling  wind,  accompanied 
with  a  moan  from  one  of  the  statues  above  me.  I 
clasped  my  hands  in  fear.  I  felt  like  a  rat  caught 
in  a  trap,  as  though  I  would  have  turned  and  bitten 
at  whatever  thing  was  nearest  me.  The  wildness 
of  the  wind  increased,  the  moans  grew  shriller, 
coming  from  several  statues,  and  swelling  into  a. 
chorus.  I  almost  immediately  knew  what  it  was, 
but  the  sound  was  so  unearthly  that  this  was  but 

44 


River  and  Range 


little  consolation.  The  inhuman  beings  into  whose 
hearts  the  Evil  One  had  put  it  to  conceive  these 
statues,  had  made  their  heads  into  a  sort  of  organ- 
pipe,  so  that  their  mouths  should  catch  the  wind 
and  sound  with  its  blowing.  It  was  horrible.  How- 
ever brave  a  man  might  be,  he  could  never  stand 
such  a  concert,  from  such  lips,  and  in  such  a  place. 
I  heaped  every  invective  upon  them  that  my  tongue 
could  utter  as  I  rushed  away  from  them  into  the 
mist,  and  even  after  I  had  lost  sight  of  them,  and 
turning  my  head  round  could  see  nothing  but  the 
storm-wraiths  driving  behind  me,  I  heard  their 
ghostly  chanting,  and  felt  as  though  one  of  them 
would  rush  after  me  and  grip  me  in  his  hand  and 
throttle  me. 

I  may  say  here  thai,  since  my  return  to  England, 
I  heard  a  friend  playing  some  chords  upon  the  organ 
which  put  me  very  forcibly  in  mind  of  the  Ere- 
whonian  statues  (for  Erewhon  is  the  name  of  the 
country  upon  which  I  was  now  entering).  They 
rose  most  vividly  to  my  recollection  the  moment  my 
friend  began.  They  are  as  follows,  and  are  by  the 
greatest  of  all  musicians  *  : — 


Prelader  wpeggto, 


*  See  Handel's  compositions  for  the  harpsichord,  published 
by  Litolf,  p.  78. 

45 


Erewhon 


U'"iijii,.ilMi4jaiivM 


mmU 


^3 


1 


-&~ 


W 


o  •  — 


46 


CHAPTER    VI 

INTO   EREWHON 

And  now  I  found  myself  on  a  narrow  path  which 
followed  a  small  watercourse.  I  was  too  glad  to 
have  an  easy  track  for  my  flight,  to  lay  hold  of  the 
full  significance  of  its  existence.  The  thought, 
however,  soon  presented  itself  to  me  that  I  must  be 
in  an  inhabited  country,  but  one  which  was  yet  un- 
known. What,  then,  was  to  be  my  fate  at  the  hands 
of  its  inhabitants?  Should  I  be  taken  and  offered 
up  as  a  burnt-offering  to  those  hideous  guardians 
of  the  pass?  It  might  be  so.  I  shuddered  at  the 
thought,  yet  the  horrors  of  solitude  had  now  fairly 
possessed  me;  and  so  dazed  was  I,  and  chilled,  and 
woebegone,  that  I  could  lay  hold  of  no  idea  firmly 
amid  the  crowd  of  fancies  that  kept  wandering  in 
upon  my  brain. 

I  hurried  onward — down,  down,  down.  More 
streams  came  in ;  then  there  was  a  bridge,  a  few  pine 
logs  thrown  over  the  water ;  but  they  gave  me  com- 
fort, for  savages  do  not  make  bridges.  Then  I  had  a 
treat  such  as  I  can  never  convey  on  paper — a  mo- 
ment, perhaps,  the  most  striking  and  unexpected 
in  my  whole  life — the  one  I  think  that,  with  some 
three  or  four  exceptions,  I  would  most  gladly  have 
again,  were  I  able  to  recall  it.    I  got  below  the  level 

47 


Erewhon 


of  the  clouds,  into  a  burst  of  brilliant  evening  sun- 
shine. I  was  facing  the  north-west,  and  the  sun 
was  full  upon  me.  Oh,  how  its  light  cheered  me! 
But  what  I  saw!  It  was  such  an  expanse  as  was 
revealed  to  Moses  when  he  stood  upon  the  summit 
of  Mount  Sinai,  and  beheld  that  promised  land 
which  it  was  not  to  be  his  to  enter.  The  beautiful 
sunset  sky  was  crimson  and  gold;  blue,  silver,  and 
purple;  exquisite  and  tranquilizing ;  fading  away 
therein  were  plains,  on  which  I  could  see  many  a 
town  and  city,  with  buildings  that  had  lofty  steeples 
and  rounded  domes.  Nearer  beneath  me  lay  ridge 
behind  ridge,  outline  behind  outline,  sunlight  be- 
hind shadow,  and  shadow  behind  sunlight,  gully  and 
serrated  ravine.  I  saw  large  pine  forests,  and  the 
glitter  of  a  noble  river  winding  its  way  upon  the 
plains;  also  many  villages  and  hamlets,  some  of 
them  quite  near  at  hand;  and  it  was  on  these  that 
I  pondered  most.  I  sank  upon  the  ground  at  the 
foot  of  a  large  tree  and  thought  what  I  had  best 
do;  but  I  could  not  collect  myself.  I  was  quite 
tired  out ;  and  presently,  feeling  warmed  by  the  sun, 
and  quieted,  I  fell  off  into  a  profound  sleep. 

I  was  awoke  by  the  sound  of  tinkling  bells,  and 
looking  up,  I  saw  four  or  five  goats  feeding  near  me. 
As  soon  as  I  moved,  the  creatures  turned  their  heads 
towards  me  with  an  expression  of  infinite  wonder. 
They  did  not  run  away,  but  stood  stock  still,  and 
looked  at  me  from  every  side,  as  I  at  them.  Then 
came  the  sound  of  chattering  and  laughter,  and 
there  approached  two  lovely  girls,  of  about  seven- 

48 


Into  Erewhon 


teen  or  eighteen  years  old,  dressed  each  in  a  sort 
of  linen  gaberdine,  with  a  girdle  round  the  waist. 
They  saw  me.  I  sat  quite  still  and  looked  at  them, 
dazzled  with  their  extreme  beauty.  For  a  moment 
they  looked  at  me  and  at  each  other  in  great  amaze- 
ment; then  they  gave  a  little  frightened  cry  and 
ran  off  as  hard  as  they  could. 

"So  that's  that,"  said  I  to  myself,  as  I  watched 
them  scampering.  I  knew  that  I  had  better  stay 
where  I  was  and  meet  my  fate,  whatever  it  was  to 
be,  and  even  if  there  were  a  better  course,  I  had  no 
strength  left  to  take  it.  I  must  come  into  contact 
with  the  inhabitants  sooner  or  later,  and  it  might  as 
well  be  sooner.  Better  not  to  seem  afraid  of  them, 
as  I  should  do  by  running  away  and  being  caught 
with  a  hue  and  cry  to-morrow  or  next  day.  So  I 
remained  quite  still  and  waited.  In  about  an  hour 
I  heard  distant  voices  talking  excitedly,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  I  saw  the  two  girls  bringing  up  a  party 
of  six  or  seven  men,  well  armed  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows and  pikes.  There  was  nothing  for  it,  so  I  re- 
mained sitting  quite  still,  even  after  they  had  seen 
me,  until  they  came  close  up.  Then  we  all  had  a 
good  look  at  one  another. 

Both  the  girls  and  the  men  were  very  dark  in 
color,  but  not  more  so  than  the  South  Italians  or 
Spaniards.  The  men  wore  no  trousers,  but  were 
dressed  nearly  the  same  as  the  Arabs  whom  I  have 
seen  in  Algeria.  They  were  of  the  most  magnificent 
presence,  being  no  less  strong  and  handsome  than 
the  women  were  beautiful;  and  not  only  this,  but 

49 


Erewhon 


their  expression  was  courteous  and  benign.  I  think 
they  would  have  killed  me  at  once  if  I  had  made  the 
slightest  show  of  violence;  but  they  gave  me  no 
impression  of  their  being  likely  to  hurt  me  so  long 
as  I  was  quiet.  I  am  not  much  given  to  liking  any- 
body at  first  sight,  but  these  people  impressed  me 
much  more  favorably  than  I  should  have  thought 
possible,  so  that  I  could  not  fear  them  as  I  scanned 
their  faces  one  after  another.  They  were  all  power- 
ful men.  I  might  have  been  a  match  for  any  one  of 
them  singly,  for  I  have  been  told  that  I  have  more 
to  glory  in  the  flesh  than  in  any  other  respect,  being 
over  six  feet  and  proportionately  strong;  but  any 
two  could  have  soon  mastered  me,  even  were  I  not 
so  bereft  of  energy  by  my  recent  adventures.  My 
color  seemed  to  surprise  them  most,  for  I  have 
light  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a  fresh  complexion.  They 
could  not  understand  how  these  things  could  be; 
my  clothes  also  seemed  quite  beyond  them.  Their 
eyes  kept  wandering  all  over  me,  and  the  more  they 
looked  the  less  they  seemed  able  to  make  me  out 
At  last  I  raised  myself  upon  my  feet,  and  leaning 
upon  my  stick,  I  spoke  whatever  came  into  my  head 
to  the  man  who  seemed  foremost  among  them.  I 
spoke  in  English,  though  I  was  very  sure  that  he 
would  not  understand.  I  said  that  I  had  no  idea 
what  country  I  was  in ;  that  I  had  stumbled  upon  it 
almost  by  accident,  after  a  series  of  hairbreadth 
escapes;  and  that  I  trusted  they  would  not  allow 
any  evil  to  overtake  me  now  that  I  was  completely 
at  their  mercy.     All  this  I  said  quietly  and  firmly, 

50 


Into  Erewhon 


with  hardly  any  change  of  expression.  They  could 
not  understand  me,  but  they  looked  approvingly  to 
one  another,  and  seemed  pleased  (so  I  thought) 
that  I  showed  no  fear  nor  acknowledgment  of  in- 
feriority— the  fact  being  that  I  was  exhausted  be- 
yond the  sense  of  fear.  Then  one  of  them  pointed 
to  the  mountain,  in  the  direction  of  the  statues,  and 
made  a  grimace  in  imitation  of  one  of  them.  I 
laughed  and  shuddered  expressively,  whereon  they 
all  burst  out  laughing  too,  and  chattered  hard  to 
one  another.  I  could  make  out  nothing  of  what 
they  said,  but  I  think  they  thought  it  rather  a  good 
joke  that  I  had  come  past  the  statues.  Then  one 
among  them  came  forward  and  motioned  me  to  fol- 
low, which  I  did  without  hesitation,  for  I  dared  not 
thwart  them;  moreover,  I  liked  them  well  enough, 
and  felt  tolerably  sure  that  they  had  no  intention  of 
hurting  me. 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  got  to  a  small 
hamlet  built  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  with  a  narrow 
street  and  houses  huddled  up  together.  The  roofs 
were  large  and  overhanging.  Some  few  windows 
were  glazed,  but  not  many.  Altogether  the  village 
was  exceedingly  like  one  of  those  that  one  comes 
upon  in  descending  the  less  known  passes  over  the 
Alps  on  to  Lombardy.  I  will  pass  over  the  excite- 
ment which  my  arrival  caused.  Suffice  it,  that 
though  there  was  abundance  of  curiosity,  there  was 
no  rudeness.  I  was  taken  to  the  principal  house, 
which  seemed  to  belong  to  the  people  who  had  cap- 
tured me.     There  I  was  hospitably  entertained,  and 

51 


Erewhon 


a  supper  of  milk  and  goat's  flesh  with  a  kind  of 
oatcake  was  set  before  me,  of  which  I  ate  heartily. 
But  all  the  time  I  was  eating  I  could  not  help  turn- 
ing my  eyes  upon  the  two  beautiful  girls  whom  I 
had  first  seen,  and  who  seemed  to  consider  me  as 
their  lawful  prize — which  indeed  I  was,  for  I  would 
have  gone  through  fire  and  water  for  either  of 
them. 

Then  came  the  inevitable  surprise  at  seeing  me 
smoke,  which  I  will  spare  the  reader;  but  I  noticed 
that  when  they  saw  me  strike  a  match,  there  was  a 
hubbub  of  excitement  which,  it  struck  me,  was  not 
altogether  unmixed  with  disapproval :  why,  I  could 
not  guess.  Then  the  women  retired,  and  I  was  left 
alone  with  the  men,  who  tried  to  talk  to  me  in  every 
conceivable  way;  but  we  could  come  to  no  under- 
standing, except  that  I  was  quite  alone,  and  had 
come  from  a  long  way  over  the  mountains.  In  the 
course  of  time  they  grew  tired,^  and  I  very  sleepy. 
I  made  signs  as  though  I  would  sleep  on  the  floor 
in  my  blankets,  but  they  gave  me  one  of  their  bunks 
with  plenty  of  dried  fern  and  grass,  on  to  which  I 
had  no  sooner  laid  myself  than  I  fell  fast  asleep; 
nor  did  I  awake  till  well  into  the  following  day, 
when  I  found  myself  in  the  hut  with  two  men 
keeping  guard  over  me  and  an  old  woman  cooking. 
When  I  woke  the  men  seemed  pleased,  and  spoke 
to  me  as  though  bidding  me  good  morning  in  a 
pleasant  tone. 

I  went  out  of  doors  to  wash  in  a  creek  which  ran 
a  few  yards  from  the  house.     My  hosts  were  as 


Into  Erewhon 


engrossed  with  me  as  ever;  they  never  took  their 
eyes  off  me,  following  every  action  that  I  did,  no 
matter  how  trifling,  and  each  looking  towards  the 
other  for  his  opinion  at  every  touch  and  turn.  They 
took  great  interest  in  my  ablutions,  for  they  seemed 
to  have  doubted  whether  I  was  in  all  respects  human 
like  themselves.  They  even  laid  hold  of  my  arms 
and  overhauled  them,  and  expressed  approval  when 
they  saw  that  they  were  strong  and  muscular.  They 
now  examined  my  legs,  and  especially  my  feet. 
When  they  desisted  they  nodded  approvingly  to 
each  other;  and  when  I  had  combed  and  brushed 
my  hair,  and  generally  made  myself  as  neat  and  well 
arranged  as  circumstances  would  allow,  I  could  see 
that  their  respect  for  me  increased  greatly,  and  that 
they  were  by  no  means  sure  that  they  had  treated 
me  with  sufficient  deference — a  matter  on  which  I 
am  not  competent  to  decide.  All  I  know  is  that 
they  were  very  good  to  me,  for  which  I  thanked 
them  heartily,  as  it  might  well  have  been  other- 
wise. 

For  my  own  part,  I  liked  them  and  admired  them, 
for  their  quiet  self-possession  and  dignified  ease  im- 
pressed me  pleasurably  at  once.  Neither  did  their 
manner  make  me  feel  as  though  I  were  personally 
distasteful  to  them — only  that  I  was  a  thing  utterly 
new  and  unlooked  for,  which  they  could  not  com- 
prehend. Their  type  was  more  that  of  the  most  ro- 
bust Italians  than  any  other;  their  manners  also 
were  eminently  Italian,  in  their  entire  unconscious- 
ness of  self.    Having  traveled  a  good  deal  in  Italy, 

53 


Erewhon 


I  was  struck  with  little  gestures  of  the  hand  and 
shoulders,  which  constantly  reminded  me  of  that 
country.  My  feeling  was  that  my  wisest  plan  would 
be  to  go  on  as  I  had  begun,  and  be  simply  myself 
for  better  or  worse,  such  as  I  was,  and  take  my 
chance  accordingly. 

I  thought  of  these  things  while  they  were  waiting 
for  me  to  have  done  washing,  and  on  my  way  back. 
Then  they  gave  me  breakfast — hot  bread  and  milk, 
and  fried  flesh  of  something  between  mutton  and 
venison.  Their  ways  of  cooking  and  eating  were 
European,  though  they  had  only  a  skewer  for  a 
fork,  and  a  sort  of  butcher's  knife  to  cut  with.  The 
more  I  looked  at  everything  in  the  house,  the  more 
I  was  struck  with  its  quasi-European  character ;  and 
had  the  walls  only  been  pasted  over  with  extracts 
from  the  Illustrated  London  News  and  Punch,  I 
could  have  almost  fancied  myself  in  a  shepherd's 
hut  upon  my  master's  sheep-run.  And  yet  every- 
thing was  slightly  different.  It  was  much  the  same 
with  the  birds  and  flowers  on  the  other  side,  as 
compared  with  the  English  ones.  On  my  arrival  I 
had  been  pleased  at  noticing  that  nearly  all  the  plants 
and  birds  were  very  like  common  English,  ones: 
thus,  there  was  a  robin,  and  a  lark,  and  a  wren,  and 
daisies,  and  dandelions;  not  quite  the  same  as  the 
English,  but  still  very  like  them — quite  like  enough 
to  be  called  by  the  same  name;  so  now,  here,  the 
ways  of  these  two  men,  and  the  things  they  had  in 
the  house,  were  all  very  nearly  the  same  as  in  Eu- 
rope.   It  was  not  at  all  like  going  to  China  or  Japan, 

54 


Into  Erewhon 


where  everything  that  one  sees  is  strange.  I  was, 
indeed,  at  once  struck  with  the  primitive  character 
of  their  appliances,  for  they  seemed  to  be  some  five 
or  six  hundred  years  behind  Europe  in  their  inven- 
tions; but  this  is  the  case  in  many  an  Italian  village. 

All  the  time  that  I  was  eating  my  breakfast  I  kept 
speculating  as  to  what  family  of  mankind  they  could 
belong  to;  and  shortly  there  came  an  idea  into  my 
head,  which  brought  the  blood  into  my  cheeks  with 
excitement  as  I  thought  of  it.  Was  it  possible  that 
they  might  be  the  lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel,  of  whom 
I  had  heard  both  my  grandfather  and  my  father 
make  mention  as  existing  in  an  unknown  country, 
and  awaiting  a  final  return  to  Palestine?  Was  it 
possible  that  /  might  have  been  designed  by  Provi- 
dence as  the  instrument  of  their  conversion?  Oh, 
what  a  thought  was  this !  I  laid  down  my  skewer 
and  gave  them  a  hasty  survey.  There  was  nothing 
of  a  Jewish  type  about  them :  their  noses  were  dis- 
tinctly Grecian,  and  their  lips,  though  full,  were  not 
Jewish. 

How  could  I  settle  this  question  ?  I  knew  neither 
Greek  nor  Hebrew,  and  even  if  I  should  get  to 
understand  the  language  here  spoken,  I  should  be 
unable  to  detect  the  roots  of  either  of  these  tongues. 
I  had  not  been  long  enough  among  them  to  ascer- 
tain their  habits,  but  they  did  not  give  me  the  im- 
pression of  being  a  religious  people.  This  too  was 
natural :  the  ten  tribes  had  been  always  lamentably 
irreligious.  But  could  I  not  make  them  change? 
To  restore  the  lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel  to  a  knowi- 

55 


Erewhon 


edge  of  the  only  truth:  here  would  be  indeed  an 
immortal  crown  of  glory!  My  heart  beat  fast  and 
furious  as  I  entertained  the  thought.  What  a  posi- 
tion would  it  not  ensure  me  in  the  next  world;  or 
perhaps  even  in  this!  What  folly  it  would  be  to 
throw  such  a  chance  away!  I  should  rank  next  to 
the  Apostles,  if  not  as  high  as  they — certainly  above 
the  minor  prophets,  and  possibly  above  any  Old 
Testament  writer  except  Moses  and  Isaiah.  For 
such  a  future  as  this  I  would  sacrifice  all  that  I  have 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  could  I  be  reasonably 
assured  of  it.  I  had  always  cordially  approved  of 
missionary  efforts,  and  had  at  times  contributed  my 
mite  towards  their  support  and  extension;  but  I 
had  never  hitherto  felt  drawn  towards  becoming  a 
missionary  myself ;  and  indeed  had  always  admired, 
and  envied,  and  respected  them,  more  than  I  had 
exactly  liked  them.  But  if  these  people  were  the 
lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel,  the  case  would  be  widely 
different :  the  opening  was  too  excellent  to  be  lost, 
and  I  resolved  that  should  I  see  indications  which 
appeared  to  confirm  my  impression  that  I  had  in- 
deed come  upon  the  missing  tribes,  I  would  certainly 
convert  them. 

I  may  here  mention  that  this  discovery  is  the  one 
to  which  I  alluded  in  the  opening  pages  of  my  story. 
Time  strengthened  the  impression  made  upon  me  at 
first;  and,  though  I  remained  in  doubt  for  several 
months,  I  feel  now  no  longer  uncertain. 

When  I  had  done  eating,  my  hosts  approached, 
and  pointed  down  the  vallev  leading  to  their  own 

56' 


Into  Erewhon 


country,  as  though  wanting  to  show  that  I  must  go 
with  them;  at  the  same  time  they  laid  hold  of  my 
arms,  and  made  as  though  they  would  take  me,  but 
used  no  violence.  I  laughed,  and  motioned  my 
hand  across  my  throat,  pointing  down  the  valley  as 
though  I  was  afraid  lest  I  should  be  killed  when  I 
got  there.  But  they  divined  me  at  once,  and  shook 
their  heads  with  much  decision,  to  show  that  I  was 
in  no  danger.  Their  manner  quite  reassured  me; 
and  in  half  an  hour  or  so  I  had  packed  up  my  swag, 
and  was  eager  for  the  forward  journey,  feeling 
wonderfully  strengthened  and  refreshed  by  good 
food  and  sleep,  while  my  hope  and  curiosity  were 
aroused  to  their  very  utmost  by  the  extraordinary 
position  in  which  I  found  myself. 

But  already  my  excitement  had  begun  to  cool; 
and  I  reflected  that  these  people  might  not  be  the 
ten  tribes  after  all;  in  which  case  I  could  not  but 
regret  that  my  hopes  of  making  money,  which  had 
led  me  into  so  much  trouble  and  danger,  were  al- 
most annihilated  by  the  fact  that  the  country  was 
full  to  overflowing,  with  a  people  who  had  probably 
already  developed  its  more  available  resources. 
Moreover,  how  was  I  to  get  back?  For  there  was 
something  about  my  hosts  which  told  me  that  they 
had  got  me,  and  meant  to  keep  me,  in  spite  of  all 
their  goodness. 


57 


CHAPTER    VII 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 

We  followed  an  Alpine  path  for  some  four  miles, 
now  hundreds  of  feet  above  a  brawling  stream 
which  descended  from  the  glaciers,  and  now  nearly 
alongside  it.  The  morning  was  cold  and  somewhat 
foggy,  for  the  autumn  had  made  great  strides  lat- 
terly. Sometimes  we  went  through  forests  of  pine, 
or  rather  yew  trees,  though  they  looked  like  pine; 
and  I  remember  that  now  and  again  we  passed  a  lit- 
tle wayside  shrine,  wherein  there  would  be  a  statue 
of  great  beauty,  representing  some  figure,  male  or 
female,  in  the  very  heyday  of  youth,  strength,  and 
beauty,  or  of  the  most  dignified  maturity  and  old 
age.  My  hosts  always  bowed  their  heads  as  they 
passed  one  of  these  shrines,  and  it  shocked  me  to  see 
statues  that  had  no  apparent  object,  beyond  the 
chronicling  of  some  unusual  individual  excellence 
or  beauty,  receive  so  serious  a  homage.  However, 
I  showed  no  sign  of  wonder  or  disapproval;  for  I 
remembered  that  to  be  all  things  to  all  men  was  one 
of  the  injunctions  of  the  Gentile  Apostle,  which  for 
the  present  I  should  do  well  to  heed.  Shortly  after 
passing  one  of  these  chapels  we  came  suddenly  upon 
a  village  which  started  up  out  of  the  mist;  and  I 
was  alarmed  lest  I  should  be  made  an  object  of 

53 


First  Impressions 


curiosity  or  dislike.  But  it  was  not  so.  My  guides 
spoke  to  many  in  passing,  and  those  spoken  to 
showed  much  amazement.  My  guides,  however, 
were  well  known,  and  the  natural  politeness  of  the 
people  prevented  them  from  putting  me  to  any  in- 
convenience ;  but  they  could  not  help  eyeing  me,  nor 
I  them.  I  may  as  well  say  at  once  what  my  after- 
experience  taught  me — namely,  that  with  all  their 
faults  and  extraordinary  obliquity  of  mental  vision 
upon  many  subjects,  they  are  the  very  best-bred 
people  that  I  ever  fell  in  with. 

The  village  was  just  like  the  one  we  had  left,  only 
rather  larger.  The  streets  were  narrow  and  un- 
paved,  but  very  fairly  clean.  The  vine  grew  outside 
many  of  the  houses ;  and  there  were  some  with  sign- 
boards, on  which  was  painted  a  bottle  and  a  glass, 
that  made  me  feel  much  at  home.  Even  on  this 
ledge  of  human  society  there  was  a  stunted  growth 
of  shoplets,  which  had  taken  root  and  vegetated 
somehow,  though  as  in  an  air  mercantile  of  the 
bleakest.  It  was  here  as  hitherto:  all  things  were 
generically  the  same  as  in  Europe,  the  differences 
being  of  species  only;  and  I  was  amused  at  seeing 
in  a  window  some  bottles  with  barley-sugar  and 
sweetmeats  for  children,  as  at  home ;  but  the  barley- 
sugar  was  in  plates,  not  in  twisted  sticks,  and  was 
colored  blue.  Glass  was  plentiful  in  the  better 
houses. 

Lastly,  I  should  say  that  the  people  were  of  a 
physical  beauty  which  was  simply  amazing.  I  never 
saw  anything  in  the  least  comparable  to  them.    The 

59 


Erewhon 


women  were  vigorous,  and  had  a  most  majestic  gait, 
their  heads  being  set  upon  their  shoulders  with  a 
grace  beyond  all  power  of  expression.  Each  feature 
was  finished,  eyelids,  eyelashes,  and  ears  being  al- 
most invariably  perfect.  Their  color  was  equal  to 
that  of  the  finest  Italian  paintings;  being  of  the 
clearest  olive,  and  yet  ruddy  with  a  glow  of  perfect 
health.  Their  expression  was  divine;  and  as  they 
glanced  at  me  timidly  but  with  parted  lips  in  great 
bewilderment,  I  forgot  all  thoughts  of  their  conver- 
sion in  feelings  that  were  far  more  earthly.  I  was 
dazzled  as  I  saw  one  after  the  other,  of  whom  I 
could  only  feel  that  each  was  the  loveliest  I  had 
ever  seen.  Even  in  middle  age  they  were  still 
comely,  and  the  old  gray-haired  women  at  their 
cottage  doors  had  a  dignity,  not  to  say  majesty,  of 
their  own. 

The  men  were  as  handsome  as  the  women  beauti- 
ful. I  have  always  delighted  in  and  reverenced 
beauty;  but  I  felt  simply  abashed  in  the  presence  of 
such  a  splendid  type — a  compound  of  all  that  is  best 
in  Egyptian,  Greek  and  Italian.  The  children  were 
infinite  in  number,  and  exceedingly  merry;  I  need 
hardly  say  that  they  came  in  for  their  full  share  of 
the  prevailing  beauty.  I  expressed  by  signs  my 
admiration  and  pleasure  to  my  guides,  and  they 
were  greatly  pleased.  I  should  add  that  all  seemed 
to  take  a  pride  in  their  personal  appearance,  and 
that  even  the  poorest  (and  none  seemed  rich)  were 
well  kempt  and  tidy.  I  could  fill  many  pages  with 
a   description   of   their   dress   and   the   ornaments 

60 


First  Impressions 


which  they  wore,  and  a  hundred  details  which  struck 
me  with  all  the  force  of  novelty ;  but  I  must  not  stay 
to  do  so. 

When  we  had  got  past  the  village  the  fog  rose, 
and  revealed  magnificent  views  of  the  snowy  moun- 
tains and  their  nearer  abutments,  while  in  front  I 
could  now  and  again  catch  glimpses  of  the  great 
plains  which  I  had  surveyed  on  the  preceding  eve- 
ning. The  country  was  highly  cultivated,  every 
ledge  being  planted  with  chestnuts,  walnuts,  and  ap- 
ple-trees from  which  the  apples  were  now  gathering. 
Goats  were  abundant;  also  a  kind  of  small  black  cat- 
tle, in  the  marshes  near  the  river,  which  was  now 
fast  widening,  and  running  between  larger  fiats 
from  which  the  hills  receded  more  and  more.  I  saw 
a  few  sheep  with  rounded  noses  and  enormous  tails. 
Dogs  were  there  in  plenty,  and  very  English;  but 
I  saw  no  cats,  nor  indeed  are  these  creatures  known, 
their  place  being  supplied  by  a  sort  of  small  terrier. 

In  about  four  hours  of  walking  from  the  time  we 
started,  and  after  passing  two  or  three  more  villages, 
we  came  upon  a  considerable  town,  and  my  guides 
made  many  attempts  to  make  me  understand  some- 
thing, but  I  gathered  no  inkling  of  their  meaning, 
except  that  I  need  be  under  no  apprehension  of 
danger.  I  will  spare  the  reader  any  description  of 
the  town,  and  would  only  bid  him  think  of  Domo- 
dossola  or  Faido.  Suffice  it  that  I  found  myself 
taken  before  the  chief  magistrate,  and  by  his  orders 
was  placed  in  an  apartment  with  two  other  people, 
who  were  the  first  I  had  seen  looking  anything  but 

61 


Erewhon 


well  and  handsome.  In  fact,  one  of  them  was 
plainly  very  much  out  of  health,  and  coughed  vio- 
lently from  time  to  time  in  spite  of  manifest  efforts 
to  suppress  it.  The  other  looked  pale  and  ill  but 
he  was  marvelously  self-contained,  and  it  was  im- 
possible to  say  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  Both 
of  them  appeared  astonished  at  seeing  one  who  was 
evidently  a  stranger,  but  they  were  too  ill  to  come 
up  to  me,  and  form  conclusions  concerning  me. 
These  two  were  first  called  out;  and  in  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  I  was  made  to  follow  them, 
which  I  did  in  some  fear,  and  wTith  much  curiosity. 
The  chief  magistrate  was  a  venerable-looking 
man,  with  white  hair  and  beard  and  a  face  of  great 
sagacity.  He  looked  me  all  over  for  about  five 
minutes,  letting  his  eyes  wander  from  the  crown  of 
my  head  to  the  soles  of  my  feet,  up  and  down,  and 
down  and  up;  neither  did  his  mind  seem  in  the 
least  clearer  when  he  had  done  looking  than  when 
he  began.  He  at  length  asked  me  a  single  short 
question,  which  I  supposed  meant  "Who  are  you?" 
I  answered  in  English  quite  composedly  as  though 
he  would  understand  me,  and  endeavored  to  be 
my  very  most  natural  self  as  well  as  I  could.  He 
appeared  more  and  more  puzzled,  and  then  retired, 
returning  with  two  others  much  like  himself.  Then 
they  took  me  into  an  inner  room,  and  the  two  fresh 
arrivals  stripped  me,  while  the  chief  looked  on. 
They  felt  my  pulse,  they  looked  at  my  tongue,  they 
listened  at  my  chest,  they  felt  all  my  muscles;  and 
at  the  end  of  each  operation  they  looked  at  the 

62 


First  Impressions 


chief  and  nodded,  and  said  something  in  a  tone  quite 
pleasant,  as  though  I  were  all  right.  They  even 
pulled  down  my  eyelids,  and  looked,  I  suppose,  to 
see  if  they  were  bloodshot;  but  it  was  not  so.  At 
length  they  gave  up ;  and  I  think  that  all  were  satis- 
fied of  my  being  in  the  most  perfect  health,  and  very 
robust  to  boot.  At  last  the  old  magistrate  made 
me  a  speech  of  about  five  minutes  long,  which  the 
other  two  appeared  to  think  greatly  to  the  point, 
but  from  which  I  gathered  nothing.  As  soon  as  it 
was  ended,  they  proceeded  to  overhaul  my  swag  and 
the  contents  of  my  pockets.  This  gave  me  little  un- 
easiness, for  I  had  no  money  with  me,  nor  anything 
which  they  were  at  all  likely  to  want,  or  which  I 
cared  about  losing.  At  least  I  fancied  so,  but  I  soon 
found  my  mistake. 

They  got  on  comfortably  at  first,  though  they 
were  much  puzzled  with  my  tobacco-pipe  and  in- 
sisted on  seeing  me  use  it.  When  I  had  shown  them 
what  I  did  with  it,  they  were  astonished  but  net 
displeased,  and  seemed  to  like  the  smell.  But  by  and 
by  they  came  to  my  watch,  which  I  had  hidden 
away  in  the  inmost  pocket  that  I  had,  and  had  for- 
gotten when  they  began  their  search.  They  seemed 
concerned  and  uneasy  as  soon  as  they  got  hold  of  it. 
They  then  made  me  open  it  and  show  the  works; 
and  when  I  had  done  so  they  gave  signs  of  very 
grave  displeasure,  which  disturbed  me  all  the  more 
because  I  could  not  conceive  wherein  it  could  have 
offended  them. 

I  remember  that  when  they  first  found  it  I  had 

63 


Erewhon 


thought  of  Paley,  and  how  he  tells  us  that  a  savage 
on  seeing  a  watch  would  at  once  conclude  that  it 
was  designed.  True,  these  people  were  not  savages, 
but  I  none  the  less  felt  sure  that  this  was  the  con- 
clusion they  would  arrive  at;  and  I  was  thinking 
what  a  wonderfully  wise  man  Archbishop  Paley 
must  have  been,  when  I  was  aroused  by  a  look  of 
horror  and  dismay  upon  the  face  of  the  magistrate, 
a  look  which  conveyed  to  me  the  impression  that 
he  regarded  my  watch  not  as  having  been  designed, 
but  rather  as  the  designer  of  himself  and  of  the 
universe ;  or  as  at  any  rate  one  of  the  great  first 
causes  of  all  things. 

Then  it  struck  me  that  this  view  was  quite  as 
likely  to  be  taken  as  the  other  by  a  people  who  had 
no  experience  of  European  civilization,  and  I  was 
a  little  piqued  with  Paley  for  having  led  me  so  much 
astray;  but  I  soon  discovered  that  I  had  misinter- 
preted the  expression  on  the  magistrate's  face,  and 
that  it  was  one  not  of  fear,  but  hatred.  He  spoke 
to  me  solemnly  and  sternly  for  two  or  three  min- 
utes. Then,  reflecting  that  this  was  of  no  use,  he 
caused  me  to  be  conducted  through  several  passages 
into  a  large  room,  which  I  afterwards  found  was 
the  museum  of  the  town,  and  wherein  I  beheld  a 
sight  which  astonished  me  more  than  anything  that 
I  had  yet  seen.  / 

It  was  rilled  with  cases  containing  all  manner  of 
curiosities — such  as  skeletons,  stuffed  birds  and  ani- 
mals, carvings  in  stone  (whereof  I  saw  several  that 
were  like  those  on  the  saddle,  only  smaller),  but 

64 


First  Impressions 


the  greater  part  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  broken 
machinery  of  all  descriptions.  The  larger  speci- 
mens had  a  case  to  themselves,  and  tickets  with 
writing  on  them  in  a  character  which  I  could  not 
understand.  There  were  fragments  of  steam  en- 
gines, all  broken  and  rusted;  among  them  I  saw  a 
cylinder  and  piston,  a  broken  fly-wheel,  and  part 
of  a  crank,  which  was  laid  on  the  ground  by  their 
side.  Again,  there  wras  a  very  old  carriage  whose 
wheels  in  spite  of  rust  and  decay,  I  could  see,  had 
been  designed  originally  for  iron  rails.  Indeed, 
there  were  fragments  of  a  great  many  of  our  own 
most  advanced  inventions;  but  they  seemed  all  to 
be  several  hundred  years  old,  and  to  be  placed  where 
they  were,  not  for  instruction,  but  curiosity.  As  I 
said  before,  all  were  marred  and  broken. 

We  passed  many  cases,  and  at  last  came  to  one 
in  which  there  were  several  clocks  and  two  or 
three  old  watches.  Here  the  magistrate  stopped, 
and  opening  the  case  began  comparing  my  watch 
with  the  others.  The  design  was  different,  but  the 
thing  was  clearly  the  same.  On  this  he  turned  to  me 
and  made  me  a  speech  in  a  severe  and  injured  tone 
of  voice,  pointing  repeatedly  to  the  watches  in  the 
case,  and  to  my  own;  neither  did  he  seem  in  the 
least  appeased  until  I  made  signs  to  him  that  he 
had  better  take  my  watch  and  put  it  with  the  others. 
This  had  some  effect  in  calming  him.  I  said  in 
English  (trusting  to  tone  and  manner  to  convey  my 
meaning)  that  I  was  exceedingly  sorry  if  I  had  been 
found  to  have  anything  contraband  in  my  posses- 

65 


Erewhon 


sion;  that  I  had  had  no  intention  of  evading  the 
ordinary  tolls,  and  that  I  would  gladly  forfeit  the 
watch  if  my  doing  so  would  atone  for  an  uninten- 
tional violation  of  the  law.  He  began  presently 
to  relent,  and  spoke  to  me  in  a  kinder  manner.  I 
think  he  saw  that  I  had  offended  without  knowl- 
edge; but  I  believe  the  chief  thing  that  brought 
him  round  was  my  not  seeming  to  be  afraid  of  him, 
although  I  was  quite  respectful ;  this,  and  my  having 
light  hair  and  complexion,  on  which  he  had  re- 
marked previously  by  signs,  as  every  one  else  had 
done. 

I  afterwards  found  that  it  was  reckoned  a  very 
great  merit  to  have  fair  hair,  this  being  a  thing  of 
the  rarest  possible  occurrence,  and  greatly  admired 
and  envied  in  all  who  were  possessed  of  it.  How- 
ever that  might  be,  my  watch  was  taken  from  me; 
but  our  peace  was  made,  and  I  was  conducted  back 
to  the  room  where  I  had  been  examined.  The 
magistrate  then  made  me  another  speech,  whereon 
I  was  taken  to  a  building  hard  by,  which  I  soon  dis- 
covered to  be  the  common  prison  of  the  town,  but 
in  which  an  apartment  was  assigned  me  separate 
from  the  other  prisoners.  The  room  contained  a 
bed,  table,  and  chairs,  also  a  fireplace  and  a  wash- 
ing-stand. There  was  another  door,  which  opened 
on  to  a  balcony,  with  a  flight  of  steps  descending 
into  a  walled  garden  of  some  size.  The  man  who 
conducted  me  into  this  room  made  signs  to  me  that 
I  might  go  down  and  walk  in  the  garden  whenever 
I  pleased,  and  intimated  that  I  should  shortly  have 

66 


First  Impressions 


something  brought  me  to  eat.  I  was  allowed  to  re- 
tain my  blankets,  and  the  few  things  which  I  had 
wrapped  inside  them,  but  it  was  plain  that  I  was 
to  consider  myself  a  prisoner — for  how  long  a 
period  I  could  not  by  any  means  determine.  He 
then  left  me  alone. 


67 


CHAPTER    VIII 

IN   PRISON 

And  now  for  the  first  time  my  courage  completely 
failed  me.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  was  penni- 
less, and  a  prisoner  in  a  foreign  country,  where  I 
had  no  friend,  nor  any  knowledge  of  the  customs 
or  language  of  the  people.  I  was  at  the  mercy  of 
men  with  whom  I  had  little  in  common.  And  yet, 
engrossed  as  I  was  with  my  extremely  difficult  and 
doubtful  position,  I  could  not  help  feeling  deeply 
interested  in  the  people  among  whom  I  had  fallen. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  that  room  full  of  old 
machinery  which  I  had  just  seen,  and  of  the  dis- 
pleasure with  which  the  magistrate  had  regarded 
my  watch?  The  people  had  very  little  machinery 
now.  I  had  been  struck  with  this  over  and  over 
again,  though  I  had  not  been  more  than  four- 
and-twenty  hours  in  the  country.  They  were  about 
as  far  advanced  as  Europeans  of  the  twelfth  or 
thirteenth  century ;  certainly  not  more  so.  And  yet 
they  must  have  had  at  one  time  the  fullest  knowl- 
edge of  our  own  most  recent  inventions.  How  could 
it  have  happened  that  having  been  once  so  far 
in  advance  they  were  now  as  much  behind  us?  It 
was  evident  that  it  was  not  from  ignorance.  They 
knew  my  watch  as  a  watch  when  they  saw  it;  and 

68 


In  Prison 


the  care  with  which  the  broken  machines  were 
preserved  and  ticketed,  proved  that  they  had  not 
lost  the  recollection  of  their  former  civilization. 
The  more  I  thought,  the  less  I  could  understand  it ; 
but  at  last  I  concluded  that  they  must  have  worked 
out  their  mines  of  coal  and  iron,  till  either  none 
were  left,  or  so  few,  that  the  use  of  these  metals 
was  restricted  to  the  very  highest  nobility.  This 
was  the  only  solution  I  could  think  of ;  and,  though 
I  afterwards  found  how  entirely  mistaken  it  was, 
I  felt  quite  sure  then  that  it  must  be  the  right  one. 
I  had  hardly  arrived  at  this  opinion  for  above 
four  or  five  minutes,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a 
young  woman  made  her  appearance  with  a  tray, 
and  a  very  appetizing  smell  of  dinner.  I  gazed 
upon  her  with  admiration  as  she  laid  a  cloth  and 
set  a  savory-looking  dish  upon  the  table.  As  I  be- 
held her  I  felt  as  though  my  position  was  already 
much  ameliorated,  for  the  very  sight  of  her  carried 
great  comfort.  She  was  not  more  than  twenty, 
rather  above  the  middle  height,  active  and  strong, 
but  yet  most  delicately  featured ;  her  lips  were  full 
and  sweet;  her  eyes  were  of  a  deep  hazel,  and 
fringed  with  long  and  springing  eyelashes ;  her  hair 
was  neatly  braided  from  off  her  forehead ;  her  com- 
plexion was  simply  exquisite;  her  figure  as  robust 
as  was  consistent  with  the  most  perfect  female 
beauty,  yet  not  more  so;  her  hands  and  feet  might 
have  served  as  models  to  a  sculptor.  Having  set 
the  stew  upon  the  table,  she  retired  with  a  glance 
of  pity,  whereon   (remembering  pity's  kinsman)   I 

69 


Erewhon 


decided  that  she  should  pity  me  a  little  more.  She 
returned  with  a  bottle  and  a  glass,  and  found  me 
sitting  on  the  bed  with  my  hands  over  my  face, 
looking  the  very  picture  of  abject  misery,  and,  like 
all  pictures,  rather  untruthful.  As  I  watched  her, 
through  my  fingers,  out  of  the  room  again,  I  felt 
sure  that  she  was  exceedingly  sorry  for  me.  Her 
back  being  turned,  I  set  to  work  and  ate  my  dinner, 
which  was  excellent. 

She  returned  in  about  an  hour  to  take  away ;  and 
there  came  with  her  a  man  who  had  a  great  bunch 
of  keys  at  his  waist,  and  whose  manner  convinced 
me  that  he  was  the  jailor.  I  afterwards  found  that 
he  was  father  to  the  beautiful  creature  who  had 
brought  me  my  dinner.  I  am  not  a  much  greater 
hypocrite  than  other  people,  and  do  what  I  would, 
I  could  not  look  so  very  miserable.  I  had  already 
recovered  from  my  dejection,  and  felt  in  a  most 
genial  humor  both  with  my  jailor  and  his  daughter. 
I  thanked  them  for  their  attention/ towards  me; 
and,  though  they  could  not  understand,  they  looked 
at  one  another  and  laughed  and  chattered  till  the 
old  man  said  something  or  other  which  I  suppose 
was  a  joke;  for  the  girl  laughed  merrily  and  ran 
away,  leaving  her  father  to  take  away  the  dinner 
things.  Then  I  had  another  visitor,  who  was  not 
so  prepossessing,  and  who  seemed  to  have  a  great 
idea  of  himself  and  a  small  one  of  me.  He  brought 
a  book  with  him,  and  pens  and  paper — all  very 
English;  and  yet,  neither  paper,  nor  printing,  nor 

70 


In  Prison 


binding,  nor  pen,  nor  ink,  were  quite  the  same  as 
ours. 

He  gave  me  to  understand  that  he  was  to  teach 
me  the  language  and  that  we  were  to  begin  at  once. 
This  delighted  me,  both  because  I  should  be  more 
comfortable  when  I  could  understand  and  make  my- 
self understood,  and  because  I  supposed  that  the  au- 
thorities would  hardly  teach  me  the  language  if  they 
intended  any  cruel  usage  towards  me  afterwards. 
We  began  at  once,  and  I  learnt  the  names  of  every- 
thing in  the  room,  and  also  the  numerals  and  per- 
sonal pronouns.  I  found  to  my  sorrow  that  the  re- 
semblance to  European  things,  which  I  had  so  fre- 
quently observed  hitherto,  did  not  hold  good  in  the 
matter  of  language;  for  I  could  detect  no  analogy 
whatever  between  this  and  any  tongue  of  which  I 
have  the  slightest  knowledge, — a  thing  which  made 
me  think  it  possible  that  I  might  be  learning  He- 
brew. 

I  must  detail  no  longer;  from  this  time  my  days 
were  spent  with  a  monotony  which  would  have 
been  tedious  but  for  the  society  of  Yram,  the  jailor's 
daughter,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  for  me  and 
treated  me  with  the  utmost  kindness.  The  man 
came  every  day  to  teach  me  the  language,  but  my 
real  dictionary  and  grammar  were  Yram;  and  I 
consulted  them  to  such  purpose  that  I  made  the 
most  extraordinary  progress,  being  able  at  the  end 
of  a  month  to  understand  a  great  deal  of  the  con- 
versation which  I  overheard  between  Yram  and  her 
father.    My  teacher  professed  himself  well  satisfied, 

7i 


Erewhon 


and  said  he  should  make  a  favorable  report  of  me 
to  the  authorities.  I  then  questioned  him  as  to 
what  would  probably  be  done  with  me.  He  told 
me  that  my  arrival  had  caused  great  excitement 
throughout  the  country,  and  that  I  was  to  be  de- 
tained a  close  prisoner  until  the  receipt  of  advices 
from  the  Government.  My  having  had  a  watch,  he 
said,  was  the  only  damaging  feature  in  the  case. 
And  then,  in  answer  to  my  asking  why  this  should 
be  so,  he  gave  me  a  long  story  of  which  with  my 
imperfect  knowledge  of  the  language  I  could  make 
nothing  whatever,  except  that  it  was  a  very  heinous 
offense,  almost  as  bad  (at  least,  so  I  thought  I  un- 
derstood him)  as  having  typhus  fever.  But  he  said 
he  thought  my  light  hair  would  save  me. 

I  was  allowed  to  walk  in  the  garden;  there  was 
a  high  wall  so  that  I  managed  to  play  a  sort  of 
hand  fives,  which  prevented  my  feeling  the  bad 
effects  of  my  confinement,  though  it  was  stupid 
work  playing  alone.  In  the  course  of  time  people 
from  the  town  and  neighborhood  began  to  pester 
the  jailor  to  be  allowed  to  see  me,  and  on  receiving 
handsome  fees  he  let  them  do  so.  The  people  were 
good  to  me;  almost  too  good,  for  they  were  in- 
clined to,  make  a  lion  of  me,  which  I  hated — at  least 
the  women  were ;  only  they  had  to  beware  of  Yram, 
who  was  a  young  lady  of  a  jealous  temperament, 
and  kept  a  sharp  eye  both  on  me  and  on  my  lady 
visitors.  However,  I  felt  so  kindly  towards  her,  and 
was  so  entirely  dependent  upon  her  for  almost  all 
that  made  my  life  a  blessing  and  a  comfort  to  me, 

72 


In  Prison 


that  I  took  good  care  not  to  vex  her,  and  we  re- 
mained excellent  friends.  The  men  were  far  less 
inquisitive,  and  would  not,  I  believe,  have  come  near 
me  of  their  own  accord ;  but  the  women  made  them 
come  as  escorts.  I  was  delighted  with  their  hand- 
some mien,  and  pleasant  genial  manners. 

My  food  was  plain,  but  always  varied  and  whole- 
some, and  the  good  red  wine  was  admirable.  I  had 
found  a  sort  of  wort  in  the  garden,  which  I  sweated 
in  heaps  and  then  dried,  obtaining  thus  a  substitute 
for  tobacco ;  so  that  what  with  Yram,  the  language, 
visitors,  fives  in  the  garden,  smoking,  and  bed,  my 
time  slipped  by  more  rapidly  and  pleasantly  than 
might  have  been  expected.  I  also  made  myself  a 
small  flute;  and  being  a  tolerable  player,  amused 
myself  at  times  with  playing  snatches  from  operas, 
and  airs  such  as  "O  where  and  oh  where,"  and 
"Home,  sweet  home."  This  was  of  great  advan- 
tage to  me,  for  the  people  of  the  country  were  igno- 
rant of  the  diatonic  scale  and  could  hardly  believe 
their  ears  on  hearing  some  of  our  most  common 
melodies.  Often,  too,  they  would  make  me  sing; 
and  I  could  at  any  time  make  Yram's  eyes  swim 
with  tears  by  singing  "Wilkins  and  his  Dinah," 
"Billy  Taylor,"  "The  Ratcatcher's  Daughter,"  or  as 
much  of  them  as  I  could  remember. 

I  had  one  or  two  discussions  with  them  because 
I  never  would  sing  on  Sunday  (of  which  I  kept 
count  in  my  pocket-book),  except  chants  and  hymn 
tunes;  of  these  I  regret  to  say  that  I  had  forgotten 
the  words,  so  that  I  could  only  sing  the  tune.    They 

73 


Erewhon 


appeared  to  have  little  or  no  religious  feeling,  and 
to  have  never  so  much  as  heard  of  the  divine  insti- 
tution of  the  Sabbath,  so  they  ascribed  my  observ- 
ance of  it  to  a  fit  of  sulkiness,  which  they  remarked 
as  coming  over  me  upon  every  seventh  day.  But 
they  were  very  tolerant,  and  one  of  them  said  to 
me  quite  kindly  that  she  knew  how  impossible  it 
was  to  help  being  sulky  at  times,  only  she  thought  I 
ought  to  see  some  one  if  it  became  more  serious — 
a  piece  of  advice  which  I  then  failed  to  understand, 
though  I  pretended  to  take  it  quite  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

Once  only  did  Yram  treat  me  in  a  way  that  was 
unkind  and  unreasonable, — at  least  so  I  thought  it 
at  the  time.  It  happened  thus.  I  had  been  playing 
fives  in  the  garden  and  got  much  heated.  Although 
the  day  was  cold,  for  autumn  was  now  advancing, 
and  Cold  Harbor  (as  the  name  of  the  town  in 
which  my  prison  was  should  be  translated)  stood 
fully  3000  feet  above  the  sea,  I  had  played  without 
my  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  took  a  sharp  chill  on 
resting  myself  too  long  in  the  open  air  without  pro- 
tection. The  next  day  I  had  a  severe  cold  and  felt 
really  poorly.  Being  little  used  even  to  the  lightest 
ailments,  and  thinking  that  it  would  be  rather  nice 
to  be  petted  and  cossetted  by  Yram,  I  certainly  did 
not  make  myself  out  to  be  any  better  than  I  was; 
in  fact,  I  remember  that  I  made  the  worst  of  things, 
and  took  it  into  my  head  to  consider  myself  upon 
the  sick  list.  When  Yram  brought  me  my  break- 
fast I  complained  somewhat  dolefully  of  my  indis- 

74 


In  Prison 


position,  expecting  the  sympathy  and  humoring 
which  I  should  have  received  from  my  mother  and 
sisters  at  home.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  fired  up  in 
an  instant,  and  asked  me  what  I  meant  by  it,  and 
how  I  dared  to  presume  to  mention  such  a  thing, 
especially  when  I  considered  in  what  place  I  was. 
She  had  the  best  mind  to  tell  her  father,  only  that 
she  was  afraid  the  consequences  would  be  so  very 
serious  for  me.  Her  manner  was  so  injured  and 
decided,  and  her  anger  so  evidently  unfeigned,  that 
I  forgot  my  cold  upon  the  spot,  begging  her  by  all 
means  to  tell  her  father  if  she  wished  to  do  so,  and 
telling  her  that  I  had  no  idea  of  being  shielded  by 
her  from  anything  whatever;  presently  mollifying, 
after  having  said  as  many  biting  things  as  I  could,  I 
asked  her  what  it  was  that  I  had  done  amiss,  and 
promised  amendment  as  soon  as  ever  I  became 
aware  of  it.  She  saw  that  I  was  really  ignorant, 
and  had  had  no  intention  of  being  rude  to  her; 
whereon  it  came  out  that  illness  of  any  sort  was 
considered  in  Erewhon  to  be  highly  criminal  and 
immoral;  and  that  I  was  liable,  even  for  catching 
cold,  to  be  had  up  before  the  magistrates  and  im- 
prisoned for  a  considerable  period — an  announce- 
ment which  struck  me  dumb  with  astonishment. 

I  followed  up  the  conversation  as  well  as  my 
imperfect  knowledge  of  the  language  would  allow, 
and  caught  a  glimmering  of  her  position  with  re- 
gard to  ill-health ;  but  I  did  not  even  then  fully  com- 
prehend it,  nor  had  I  as  yet  any  idea  of  the  other 
extraordinary  perversions  of  thought  which  existed 

75 


Erewhon 


among  the  Erewhonians,  but  with  which  I  was 
soon  to  become  familiar.  I  propose,  therefore,  to 
make  no  mention  of  what  passed  between  us  on  this 
occasion,  save  that  we  were  reconciled,  and  that 
she  brought  me  surreptitiously  a  hot  glass  of  spirits 
and  water  before  I  went  to  bed,  as  also  a  pile  of 
extra  blankets,  and  that  next  morning  I  was  quite 
well.  I  never  remember  to  have  lost  a  cold  so  rap- 
idly. 

This  little  affair  explained  much  which  had 
hitherto  puzzled  me.  It  seemed  that  the  two  men 
who  were  examined  before  the  magistrates  on  the 
day  of  my  arrival  in  the  country,  had  been  given  in 
charge  on  account  of  ill  health,  and  were  both  con- 
demned to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment  with  hard 
labor ;  they  were  now  expiating  their  offense  in  this 
very  prison,  and  their  exercise  ground  was  a  yard 
separated  by  my  fives  wall  from  the  garden  in  which 
I  walked.  This  accounted  for  the  sounds  of  cough- 
ing and  groaning  which  I  had  often  noticed  as  com- 
ing from  the  other  side  of  the  wall:  it  was  high, 
and  I  had  not  dared  to  climb  it  for  fear  the  jailor 
should  see  me  and  think  that  I  was  trying  to  escape ; 
but  I  had  often  wondered  what  sort  of  people  they 
could  be  on  the  other  side,  and  had  resolved  on  ask- 
ing the  jailor;  but  I  seldom  saw  him,  and  Yram 
and  I  generally  found  other  things  to  talk  about. 

Another  month  flew  by,  during  which  I  made 
such  progress  in  the  language  that  I  could  under- 
stand all  that  was  said  to  me,  and  express  myself 
with  tolerable  fluency.     My  instructor  professed  to 

76 


In  Prison 


be  astonished  with  the  progress  I  had  made ;  I  was 
careful  to  attribute  it  to  the  pains  he  had  taken  with 
me  and  to  his  admirable  method  of  explaining  my 
difficulties,  so  we  became  excellent  friends. 

My  visitors  became  more  and  more  frequent. 
Among  them  there  were  some,  both  men  and 
women,  who  delighted  me  entirely  by  their  sim- 
plicity, unconsciousness  of  self,  kindly  genial  man- 
ners, and  last,  but  not  least,  by  their  exquisite 
beauty;  there  came  others  less  well-bred,  but  still 
comely  and  agreeable  people,  while  some  were  snobs 
pure  and  simple. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  month  the  jailor  and  my 
instructor  came  together  to  visit  me  and  told  me 
that  communications  had  been  received  from  the 
Government  to  the  effect  that  if  I  had  behaved  well 
and  seemed  generally  reasonable,  and  if  there  could 
be  no  suspicion  at  all  about  my  bodily  health  and 
vigor,  and  if  my  hair  was  really  light,  and  my  eyes 
blue  and  complexion  fresh,  I  was  to  be  sent  up  at 
once  to  the  metropolis  in  order  that  the  King  and 
Queen  might  see  me  and  converse  with  me;  but 
that  when  I  arrived  there  I  should  be  set  at  liberty, 
and  a  suitable  allowance  would  be  made  me.  My 
teacher  also  told  me  that  one  of  the  leading  mer- 
chants had  sent  me  an  invitation  to  repair  to  his 
house  and  to  consider  myself  his  guest  for  as  long  a 
time  as  I  chose.  "He  is  a  delightful  man,"  con- 
tinued the  interpreter,  "but  has  suffered  terribly 
from"  (here  there  came  a  long  word  which  I  could 
not  quite  catch,  only  it  was  much  longer  than  klep- 

77 


Erewhon 


toman  ia),  "and  has  but  lately  recovered  from  em- 
bezzling a  large  sum  of  money  under  singularly  dis- 
tressing circumstances;  but  he  has  quite  got  over 
it,  and  the  straighteners  say  that  he  has  made  a 
really  wonderful  recovery ;  you  are  sure  to  like  him." 


78 


CHAPTER    IX 

TO   THE   METROPOLIS 

With  the  above  words  the  good  man  left  the  room 
before  I  had  time  to  express  my  astonishment  at 
hearing  such  extraordinary  language  from  the  lips 
of  one  who  seemed  to  be  a  reputable  member  of 
society.  "Embezzle  a  large  sum  of  money  under 
singularly  distressing  circumstances !"  I  exclaimed 
to  myself,  "and  ask  me  to  go  and  stay  with  him! 
I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort — compromise  myself 
at  the  very  outset  in  the  eyes  of  all  decent  people, 
and  give  the  death-blow  to  my  chances  of  either 
converting  them  if  they  are  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel, 
or  making  money  out  of  them  if  they  are  not!  No. 
I  will  do  anything  rather  than  that."  And  when  I 
next  saw  my  teacher  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  at  all 
like  the  sound  of  what  had  been  proposed  for  me, 
and  that  I  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  For 
by  my  education  and  the  example  of  my  own  par- 
ents, and  I  trust  also  in  some  degree  from  inborn 
instinct,  I  have  a  very  genuine  dislike  for  all  un- 
handsome dealings  in  money  matters,  though  none 
can  have  a  greater  regard  for  money  than  I  have,  if 
it  be  got  fairly. 

The  interpreter  was  much  surprised  by  my  an- 
swer, and  said  that  I  should  be  very  foolish  if  I  per- 
sisted in  my  refusal. 

79 


Erewhon 


"Mr.  Nosnibor,"  he  continued,  "is  a  man  of  at 
least  500,000  horse-power"  (for  their  way  of  reck- 
oning and  classifying  men  is  by  the  number  of  foot 
pounds  which  they  have  money  enough  to  raise,  or 
more  roughly  by  their  horse-power),  "and  keeps  a 
capital  table ;  besides,  his  two  daughters  are  among 
the  most  beautiful  women  in  Erewhon. " 

When  I  heard  all  this,  I  confess  that  I  was  much 
shaken,  and  inquired  whether  he  was  favorably  con- 
sidered in  the  best  society. 

"Certainly,"  was  the  answer;  "no  man  in  the 
country  stands  higher." 

He  then  went  on  to  say  that  one  would  have 
thought  from  my  manner  that  my  proposed  host  had 
had  jaundice  or  pleurisy  or  been  generally  unfor- 
tunate, and  that  I  was  in  fear  of  infection. 

"I  am  not  much  afraid  of  infection,"  said  I,  im- 
patiently, "but  I  have  some  regard  for  my  character ; 
and  if  I  know  a  man  to  be  an  embezzler  of  other 
people's  money,  be  sure  of  it,  I  will  give  him  as 
wide  a  berth  as  I  can.    If  he  were  ill  or  poor " 

"111  or  poor !"  interrupted  the  interpreter,  with  a 
face  of  great  alarm.  "So  that's  your  notion  of 
propriety !  You  would  consort  with  the  basest  crim- 
inals, and  yet  deem  simple  embezzlement  a  bar  to 
friendly  intercourse.    I  cannot  understand  you." 

"But  I  am  poor  myself,"  cried  I. 

"You  were,"  said  he;  "and  you  were  liable  to  be 
severely  punished  for  it, — indeed,  at  the  council 
which  was  held  concerning  you,  this  fact  was  very 
nearly  consigning  you  to  what  I  should  myself  con- 

80 


To  the  Metropolis 


sicier  a  well-deserved  chastisement"  (for  he  was 
getting  angry,  and  so  was  I)  ;  "but  the  Queen  was 
so  inquisitive,  and  wanted  so  much  to  see  you,  that 
she  petitioned  the  King  and  made  him  give  you  his 
pardon,  and  assign  you  a  pension  in  consideration 
of  your  meritorious  complexion.  It  is  lucky  for 
you  that  he  has  not  heard  what  you  have  been 
saying  now,  or  he  would  be  sure  to  cancel  it." 

As  I  heard  these  words  my  heart  sank  within  me. 
I  felt  the  extreme  difficulty  of  my  position,  and 
how  wicked  I  should  be  in  running  counter  to  es- 
tablished usage.  I  remained  silent  for  several  min- 
utes, and  then  said  that  I  should  be  happy  to  ac- 
cept the  embezzler's  invitation, — on  which  my  in- 
structor brightened  and  said  I  was  a  sensible  fellow. 
But  I  felt  very  uncomfortable.  When  he  had  left 
the  room,  I  mused  over  the  conversation  which  had 
just  taken  place  between  us,  but  I  could  make  noth- 
ing out  of  it,  except  that  it  argued  an  even  greater 
perversity  of  mental  vision  than  I  had  been  yet  pre- 
pared for.  And  this  made  me  wretched ;  for  I  can- 
not bear  having  much  to  do  with  people  who  think 
differently  from  myself.  All  sorts  of  wandering 
thoughts  kept  coming  into  my  head.  I  thought  of 
my  master's  hut,  and  my  seat  upon  the  mountain 
side,  where  I  had  first  conceived  the  insane  idea  of 
exploring.  What  years  and  years  seemed  to  have 
passed  since  I  had  begun  my  journey! 

I  thought  of  my  adventures  in  the  gorge,  and  on 
the  journey  hither,  and  of  Chowbok.  I  wondered 
what  Chowbok  told  them  about  me  when  he  got 

81 


Erewhon 


back, — he  had  done  well  in  going  back,  Chowbok 
had.  He  was  not  handsome — nay,  he  was  hideous ; 
and  it  would  have  gone  hardly  with  him.  Twi- 
light drew  on,  and  rain  pattered  against  the  win- 
dows. Never  yet  had  I  felt  so  unhappy,  except 
during  three  days  of  sea-sickness  at  the  beginning 
of  my  voyage  from  England.  I  sat  musing  and  in 
great  melancholy,  until  Yram  made  her  appearance 
with  light  and  supper.  She  too,  poor  girl,  was  mis- 
erable ;  for  she  had  heard  that  I  was  to  leave  them. 
She  had  made  up  her  mind  that  I  was  to  remain 
always  in  the  town,  even  after  my  imprisonment  was 
over ;  and  I  fancy  had  resolved  to  marry  me  though 
I  had  never  so  much  as  hinted  at  her  doing  so. 
So  what  with  the  distressingly  strange  conversation 
with  my  teacher,  my  own  friendless  condition,  and 
Yram's  melancholy,  I  felt  more  unhappy  than  I  can 
describe,  and  remained  so  till  I  got  to  bed,  and  sleep 
sealed  my  eyelids. 

On  awaking  next  morning  I  was  much  better.  It 
was  settled  that  I  was  to  make  my  start  in  a  con- 
veyance which  was  to  be  in  waiting  for  me  at  about 
eleven  o'clock;  and  the  anticipation  of  change  put 
me  in  good  spirits,  which  even  the  tearful  face  of 
Yram  could  hardly  altogether  derange.  I  kissed  her 
again  and  again,  assured  her  that  we  should  meet 
hereafter,  and  that  in  the  meanwhile  I  should  be 
ever  mindful  of  her  kindness.  I  gave  her  two  of 
the  buttons  off  my  coat  and  a  lock  of  my  hair  as  a 
keepsake,  taking  a  goodly  curl  from  her  own  beauti- 
ful head  in  return :  and  so,  having  said  good-by  a 

82 


To  the  Metropolis 


hundred  times,  till  I  was  fairly  overcome  with  her 
great  sweetness  and  her  sorrow,  I  tore  myself  away 
from  her  and  got  down-stairs  to  the  caleche  which 
was  in  waiting.  How  thankful  I  was  when  it  was 
all  over,  and  I  was  driven  away  and  out  of  sight. 
Would  that  I  could  have  felt  that  it  was  out  of 
mind  also!  Pray  heaven  that  it  is  so  now,  and 
that  she  is  married  happily  among  her  own  people, 
and  has  forgotten  me! 

And  now  began  a  long  and  tedious  journey  with 
which  I  should  hardly  trouble  the  reader  if  I  could. 
He  is  safe,  however,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I 
was  blindfolded  during  the  greater  part  of  the  time. 
A  bandage  was  put  upon  my  eyes  every  morning, 
and  was  only  removed  at  night  when  I  reached  the 
inn  at  which  we  were  to  pass  the  night.  We  trav- 
eled slowly,  although  the  roads  were  good.  We 
drove  but  one  horse,  which  took  us  our  day's  jour- 
ney from  morning  till  evening,  about  six  hours,  ex- 
clusive of  two  hours'  rest  in  the  middle  of  the  day. 
I  do  not  suppose  we  made  above  thirty  or  thirty- 
five  miles  on  an  average.  Each  day  we  had  a  fresh 
horse.  As  I  have  said  already,  I  could  see  nothing 
of  the  country.  I  only  know  that  it  was  level,  and 
that  several  times  we  had  to  cross  large  rivers  in 
ferry-boats.  The  inns  were  clean  and  comfortable. 
In  one  or  two  of  the  larger  towns  they  were  quite 
sumptuous,  and  the  food  was  good  and  well  cooked. 
The  same  wonderful  health  and  grace  and  beauty 
prevailed  everywhere. 

I  found  myself  an  object  of  great  interest;  so 

83 


Erewhon 


much  so,  that  the  driver  told  me  he  had  to  keep 
our  route  secret,  and  at  times  to  go  to  places  that 
were  not  directly  on  our  road,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  press  tnat  would  otherwise  have  awaited  us. 
Every  evening  I  had  a  reception,  and  grew  heartily 
tired  of  having  to  say  the  same  things  over  and 
over  again  in  answer  to  the  same  questions,  but 
it  was  impossible  to  be  angry  with  people  whose 
manners  were  so  delightful.  They  never  once 
asked  after  my  health,  or  even  whether  I  was  fa- 
tigued with  my  journey;  but  their  first  question  was 
almost  invariably  an  inquiry  after  my  temper,  the 
naivete  of  which  astonished  me  till  I  became  used  to 
it.  One  day,  being  tired  and  cold,  and  weary  of 
saying  the  same  thing  over  and  over  again,  I  turned 
a  little  brusquely  on  my  questioner  and  said  that  I 
was  exceedingly  cross,  and  that  I  could  hardly  feel 
in  a  worse  humor  with  myself  and  every  one  else 
than  at  that  moment.  To  my  surprise,  I  was  met 
with  the  kindest  expressions  of  condolence,  and 
heard  it  buzzed  about  the  room  that  I  was  in  an  ill 
temper;  whereon  people  began  to  give  me  nice 
things  to  smell  and  to  eat,  which  really  did  seem 
to  have  some  temper-mending  quality  about  them, 
for  I  soon  felt  pleased  and  was  at  once  congratu- 
lated upon  being  better.  The  next  morning  two 
or  three  people  sent  their  servants  to  the  hotel  with 
sweetmeats,  and  inquiries  whether  I  had  quite  recov- 
ered from  my  ill  humor.  On  receiving  the  good 
things  I  felt  in  half  a  mind  to  be  ill-tempered  every 
evening;  but  I  disliked  the  condolences  and  the  in- 

84 


To  the  Metropolis 


quiries,  and  found  it  most  comfortable  to  keep  my 
natural  temper,  which  is  smooth  enough  generally. 
Among-  those  who  came  to  visit  me  were  some 
who  had  received  a  liberal  education  at  the  Col- 
leges of  Unreason,  and  taken  the  highest  degrees 
in  hypothetics,  which  are  their  principal  study. 
These  gentlemen  had  now  settled  down  to  various 
employments  in  the  country,  as  straighteners,  man- 
agers and  cashiers  of  the  Musical  Banks,  priests  of 
religion,  or  what  not,  and  carrying  their  education 
with  them  they  diffused  a  leaven  of  culture  through- 
out the  country.  I  naturally  questioned  them  about 
many  of  the  things  which  had  puzzled  me  since  my 
arrival.  I  inquired  what  was  the  object  and  mean- 
ing of  the  statues  which  I  had  seen  upon  the  plateau 
of  the  pass.  I  was  told  that  they  dated  from  a  very 
remote  period,  and  that  there  were  several  other 
such  groups  in  the  country,  but  none  so  remarkable 
as  the  one  which  I  had  seen.  They  had  a  religious 
origin,  having  been  designed  to  propitiate  the  gods 
of  deformity  and  disease.  In  former  times  it  had 
been  the  custom  to  make  expeditions  over  the 
ranges,  and  capture  the  ugliest  of  Chowbok's  an- 
cestors whom  they  could  find,  in  order  to  sacrifice 
them  in  the  presence  of  these  deities,  and  thus  avert 
ugliness  and  disease  from  the  Erewhonians  them- 
selves. It  had  been  whispered  (but  my  informant 
assured  me  untruly)  that  centuries  ago  they  had 
even  offered  up  some  of  their  own  people  who  were 
ugly  or  out  of  health,  in  order  to  make  examples 
of  them;  these  detestable  customs,  however,  had 

35 


Erewhon 


been  long  discontinued ;  neither  was  there  any  pres- 
ent observance  of  the  statues. 

I  had  the  curiosity  to  inquire  what  would  be  done 
to  any  of  Chowbok's  tribe  if  they  crossed  over  into 
Erewhon.  I  was  told  that  nobody  knew,  inasmuch 
as  such  a  thing  had  not  happened  for  ages.  They 
would  be  too  ugly  to  be  allowed  to  go  at  large, 
but  not  so  much  so  as  to  be  criminally  liable.  Their 
offense  in  having  come  would  be  a  moral  one;  but 
they  would  be  beyond  the  straightener's  art.  Pos- 
sibly they  would  be  consigned  to  the  Hospital  for 
Incurable  Bores,  and  made  to  work  at  being  bored 
for  so  many  hours  a  day  by  the  Erewhonian  in- 
habitants of  the  hospital,  who  are  extremely  im- 
patient of  one  another's  boredom,  but  would  soon 
die  if  they  had  no  one  whom  they  might  bore — 
in  fact,  that  they  would  be  kept  as  professional 
borees.  When  I  heard  this,  it  occurred  to  me  that 
some  rumors  of  its  substance  might  perhaps  have 
become  current  among  Chowbok's  people;  for  the 
agony  of  his  fear  had  been  too  great  to  have  been 
inspired  by  the  mere  dread  of  being  burnt  alive  be- 
fore the  statues. 

I  also  questioned  them  about  the  museum  of  old 
machines,  and  the  cause  of  the  apparent  retrogres- 
sion in  all  arts,  sciences,  and  inventions,  I  learnt 
that  about  four  hundred  years  previously,  the  state 
of  mechanical  knowledge  was  far  beyond  our  own, 
and  was  advancing  with  prodigious  rapidity,  until 
one  of  the  most  learned  professors  of  hypothetics 
wrote  an  extraordinary  book  (from  which  I  pro- 

86 


To  the  Metropolis 


pose  to  give  extracts  later  on),  proving  that  the  ma- 
chines were  ultimately  destined  to  supplant  the  race 
of  man,  and  to  become  instinct  with  a  vitality  as 
different  from,  and  superior  to,  that  of  animab, 
as  animal  to  vegetable  life.  So  convincing  was  his 
reasoning,  or  unreasoning,  to  this  effect,  that  he  car- 
ried the  country  with  him;  and  they  made  a  clean 
sweep  of  all  machinery  that  had  not  been  in  use 
for  more  than  two  hundred  and  seventy-one  years 
(which  period  was  arrived  at  after  a  series  of  com- 
promises), and  strictly  forbade  all  further  improve- 
ments and  inventions  under  pain  of  being  consid- 
ered in  the  eye  of  the  law  to  be  laboring  under 
typhus  fever,  which  they  regard  as  one  of  the  worst 
of  all  crimes. 

This  is  the  only  case  in  which  they  have  con- 
founded mental  and  physical  diseases,  and  they  do 
it  even  here  as  by  an  avowed  legal  fiction.  I  be- 
came uneasy  when  I  remembered  about  my  watch; 
but  they  comforted  me  with  the  assurance  that 
transgression  in  this  matter  was  now  so  unheard  of, 
that  the  law  could  afford  to  be  lenient  towards  an 
utter  stranger,  especially  towards  one  who  had 
such  a  good  character  (they  meant  physique),  and 
such  beautiful  light  hair.  Moreover  the  watch  was 
a  real  curiosity,  and  would  be  a  welcome  addition 
to  the  metropolitan  collection ;  so  they  did  not  think 
I  need  let  it  trouble  me  seriously. 

I  will  write,  however,  more  fully  upon  this  sub- 
ject when  I  deal  with  the  Colleges  of  Unreason, 
and  the  Book  of  the  Machines. 

87 


Erewhon 


In  about  a  month  from  the  time  of  our  starting 
I  was  told  that  our  journey  was  nearly  over.  The 
bandage  was  now  dispensed  with,  for  it  seemed 
impossible  that  I  should  ever  be  able  to  find  my  way 
back  without  being  captured.  Then  we  rolled  mer- 
rily along  through  the  streets  of  a  handsome  town, 
and  got  on  to  a  long,  broad,  and  level  road,  with 
poplar  trees  on  either  side.  The  road  was  raised 
slightly  above  the  surrounding  country,  and  had 
formerly  been  a  railway;  the  fields  on  either  side 
were  in  the  highest  conceivable  cultivation,  but  the 
harvest  and  also  the  vintage  had  been  already  gath- 
ered. The  weather  had  got  cooler  more  rapidly 
than  could  be  quite  accounted  for  by  the  progress 
of  the  season;  so  I  rather  thought  that  we  must 
have  been  making  away  from  the  sun,  and  were 
some  degrees  farther  from  the  equator  than  when 
we  started.  Even  here  the  vegetation  showed  that 
the  climate  was  a  hot  one,  yet  there  was  no  lack  of 
vigor  among  the  people ;  on  the  contrary,  they  were 
a  very  hardy  race,  and  capable  of  great  endurance. 
For  the  hundredth  time  I  thought  that,  take  them 
all  round,  I  had  never  seen  their  equals  in  respect 
of  physique,  and  they  looked  as  good-natured  as 
they  were  robust.  The  flowers  were  for  the  most 
part  over,  but  their  absence  was  in  some  measure 
compensated  for  by  a  profusion  of  delicious  fruit, 
closely  resembling  the  figs,  peaches,  and  pears  of 
Italy  and  France.  I  saw  no  wild  animals,  but  birds 
were  plentiful  and  much  as  in  Europe,  but  not  tame 
as  they  had  been  on  the  other  side  the  ranges.    They 

88 


To  the  Metropolis 


were  shot  at  with  the  cross-bow  and  with  arrows, 
gunpowder  being  unknown,  or  at  any  rate  not  in 
use. 

We  were  now  nearing  the  metropolis  and  I  could 
see  great  towers  and  fortifications,  and  lofty  build- 
ings that  looked  like  palaces.  I  began  to  be  nervous 
as  to  my  reception;  but  I  had  got  on  very  well  so 
far,  and  resolved  to  continue  upon  the  same  plan 
as  hitherto — namely,  to  behave  just  as  though  I 
were  in  England  until  I  saw  that  I  was  making  a 
blunder,  and  then  to  say  nothing  till  I  could  gather 
how  the  land  lay.  We  drew  nearer  and  nearer. 
The  news  of  my  approach  had  got  abroad,  and 
there  was  a  great  crowd  collected  on  either  side  the 
road,  who  greeted  me  with  marks  of  most  respect- 
ful curiosity,  keeping  me  bowing  constantly  in  ac- 
knowledgment from  side  to  side. 

When  we  were  about  a  mile  off,  we  were  met 
by  the  Mayor  and  several  Councilors,  among  whom 
was  a  venerable  old  man,  who  was  introduced  to 
me  by  the  Mayor  (for  so  I  suppose  I  should  call 
him)  as  the  gentleman  who  had  invited  me  to  his 
house.  I  bowed  deeply  and  told  him  how  grateful 
I  felt  to  him,  and  how  gladly  I  would  accept  his 
hospitality.  He  forbade  me  to  say  more,  and  point- 
ing to  his  carriage,  which  was  close  at  hand,  he  mo- 
tioned me  to  a  seat  therein.  I  again  bowed  pro- 
foundly to  the  Mayor  and  Councilors,  and  drove 
off  with  my  entertainer,  whose  name  was  Senoj 
Nosnibor.  After  about  half  a  mile  the  carriage 
turned  off  the  main  road,  and  we  drove  under  the 

89 


Erewhon 


walls  of  the  town  till  we  reached  a  palazso  on  a 
slight  eminence,  and  just  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  This  was  Senoj  Nosnibor's  house,  and  noth- 
ing can  be  imagined  finer.  It  was  situated  near  the 
magnificent  and  venerable  ruins  of  the  old  railway- 
station,  which  formed  an  imposing  feature  from 
the  gardens  of  the  house.  The  grounds,  some  ten 
or  a  dozen  acres  in  extent,  were  laid  out  in  ter- 
raced gardens,  one  above  the  other,  with  flights  of 
broad  steps  ascending  and  descending  the  declivity 
of  the  garden.  On  these  steps  there  were  statues  of 
most  exquisite  workmanship.  Besides  the  statues 
there  were  vases  filled  with  various  shrubs  that  were 
new  to  me;  and  on  either  side  the  flights  of  steps 
there  were  rows  of  old  cypresses  and  cedars,  with 
grassy  alleys  between  them.  Then  came  choice  vine- 
yards and  orchards  of  fruit-trees  in  full  bearing. 
The  house  itself  was  approached  by  a  court-yard, 
and  round  it  was  a  corridor  on  to  which  rooms 
opened,  as  at  Pompeii.  In  the  middle  of  the  court 
there  was  a  bath  and  a  fountain.  Having  passed 
the  court  we  came  to  the  main  body  of  the  house, 
which  was  two  stories  in  height.  The  rooms  were 
large  and  lofty;  perhaps  at  first  they  looked  rather 
bare  of  furniture,  but  in  hot  climates  people  gener- 
ally keep  their  rooms  more  bare  than  they  do  in 
colder  ones.  I  missed  also  the  sight  of  a  grand 
piano  or  some  similar  instrument,  there  being  no 
means  of  producing  music  in  any  of  the  rooms  save 
the  larger  drawing-room,  where  there  were  half  a 
dozen  large  bronze  gongs,  which  the  ladies  used 

90 


To  the  Metropolis 


occasionally  to  beat  about  at  random.  It  was  not 
pleasant  to  hear  them,  but  I  have  heard  quite  as 
unpleasant  music  both  before  and  since. 

Mr.  Nosnibor  took  me  through  several  spacious 
rooms  till  we  reached  a  boudoir  where  were  his 
wife  and  daughters,  of  whom  I  had  heard  from  the 
interpreter.  Mrs.  Nosnibor  was  about  forty  years 
old,  and  still  handsome,  but  she  had  grown  very 
stout:  her  daughters  were  in  the  prime  of  youth 
and  exquisitely  beautiful.  I  gave  the  preference 
almost  at  once  to  the  younger,  whose  name  was 
Arowhena;  for  the  elder  sister  was  haughty,  while 
the  younger  had  a  very  winning  manner.  Mrs. 
Nosnibor  received  me  with  the  perfection  of  cour- 
tesy, so  that  I  must  have  indeed  been  shy  and  nerv- 
ous if  I  had  not  at  once  felt  welcome.  Scarcely 
was  the  ceremony  of  my  introduction  well  com- 
pleted before  a  servant  announced  that  dinner  was 
ready  in  the  next  room.  I  was  exceedingly  hungry, 
and  the  dinner  was  beyond  all  praise.  Can  the 
reader  wonder  that  I  began  to  consider  myself  in 
excellent  quarters?  "That  man  embezzle  money ?" 
thought  I  to  myself;  "impossible." 

But  I  noticed  that  my  host  was  uneasy  during  the 
whole  meal,  and  that  he  ate  nothing  but  a  little 
bread  and  milk;  towards  the  end  of  dinner  there 
came  a  tall  lean  man  with  a  black  beard,  to  whom 
Mr.  Nosnibor  and  the  whole  family  paid  great  at- 
tention :  he  was  the  family  straightener.  With  this 
gentleman  Mr.  Nosnibor  retired  into  another  room, 
from  which  there  presently  proceeded  a  sound  of 

91 


Erewhon 


weeping  and  wailing.  I  could  hardly  believe  my 
ears,  but  in  a  few  minutes  I  got  to  know  for  a  cer- 
tainty that  they  came  from  Mr.  Nosnibor  himself. 

"Poor  papa,"  said  Arowhena,  as  she  helped  her- 
self composedly  to  the  salt,  "hew  terribly  he  has 
suffered." 

"Yes,"  answered  her  mother;  "but  I  think  he  is 
quite  out  of  danger  now." 

Then  they  went  on  to  explain  to  me  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  and  the  treatment  which  the 
straightener  had  prescribed,  and  how  successful  he 
had  been — all  which  I  will  reserve  for  another  chap- 
ter, and  put  rather  in  the  form  of  a  general  sum- 
mary of  the  opinions  current  upon  these  subjects 
than  in  the  exact  words  in  which  the  facts  were 
delivered  to  me ;  the  reader,  however,  is  earnestly  re- 
quested to  believe  that  both  in  this  next  chapter  and 
in  those  that  follow  it  I  have  endeavored  to  adhere 
most  conscientiously  to  the  strictest  accuracy,  and 
that  I  have  never  willingly  misrepresented,  though 
I  may  have  sometimes  failed  to  understand  all  the 
bearings  of  an  opinion  or  custom. 


92 


CHAPTER    X 

CURRENT  OPINIONS 

This  is  what  I  gathered.  That  in  that  country  if  a 
man  falls  into  ill  health,  or  catches  any  disorder, 
or  fails  bodily  in  any  way  before  he  is  seventy  years 
old,  he  is  tried  before  a  jury  of  his  countrymen, 
and  if  convicted  is  held  up  to  public  scorn  and 
sentenced  more  or  less  severely  as  the  case  may 
be.  There  are  subdivisions  of  illnesses  into  crimes 
and  misdemeanors  as  with  offenses  amongst  our- 
selves— a  man  being  punished  very  heavily  for  seri- 
ous illness,  while  failure  of  eyes  or  hearing  in  one 
over  sixty-five,  who  has  had  good  health  hitherto, 
is  dealt  with  by  fine  only,  or  imprisonment  in  de- 
fault of  payment.  But  if  a  man  forges  a  check, 
or  sets  his  house  on  fire,  or  robs  with  violence  from 
the  person,  or  does  any  other  such  things  as  are 
criminal  in  our  own  country,  he  is  either  taken  to 
a  hospital  and  most  carefully  tended  at  the  public 
expense,  or  if  he  is  in  good  circumstances,  he  lets  it 
be  known  to  all  his  friends  that  he  is  suffering  from 
a  severe  fit  of  immorality,  just  as  we  do  when  we 
are  ill,  and  they  come  and  visit  him  with  great  solici- 
tude, and  inquire  with  interest  how  it  all  came  about, 
what  symptoms  first  showed  themselves,  and  so 
forth, — questions  which  he  will  answer  with  perfect 

93 


Erewhon 


unreserve;  for  bad  conduct,  though  considered  no 
less  deplorable  than  illness  with  ourselves,  and  as 
unquestionably  indicating  something  seriously 
wrong  with  the  individual  who  misbehaves,  is  never- 
theless held  to  be  the  result  of  either  pre-natal  or 
post-natal  misfortune. 

The  strange  part  of  the  story,  however,  is  that 
though  they  ascribe  moral  defects  to  the  effect  of 
misfortune  either  in  character  or  surroundings,  they 
will  not  listen  to  the  plea  of  misfortune  in  cases 
that  in  England  meet  with  sympathy  and  com- 
miseration only.  Ill  luck  of  any  kind,  or  even  ill 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  others,  is  considered  an 
offense  against  society,  inasmuch  as  it  makes  peo- 
ple uncomfortable  to  hear  of  it.  Loss  of  fortune, 
therefore,  or  loss  of  some  dear  friend  on  whom  an- 
other was  much  dependent,  is  punished  hardly  less 
severely  than  physical  delinquency. 

Foreign,  indeed,  as  such  ideas  are  to  our  own, 
traces  of  somewhat  similar  opinions  can  be  found 
even  in  nineteenth-century  England.  If  a  person 
has  an  abscess,  the  medical  man  will  say  that  it  con- 
tains "peccant"  matter,  and  people  say  that  they 
have  a  "bad"  arm  or  finger,  or  that  they  are  very 
"bad"  all  over,  when  they  only  mean  "diseased." 
Among  foreign  nations  Erewhonian  opinions  may 
be  still  more  clearly  noted.  The  Mahommedans, 
for  example,  to  this  day,  send  their  female  prisoners 
to  hospitals,  and  the  New  Zealand  Maories  visit 
any  misfortune  with  forcible  entry  into  the  house  of 
the  offender,  and  the  breaking  up  and  burning  of 

94 


Current  Opinions 


all  his  goods.  The  Italians,  again,  use  the  same 
word  for  "disgrace"  and  "misfortune."  I  once 
heard  an  Italian  lady  speak  of  a  young  friend  whom 
she  described  as  endowed  with  every  virtue  under 
heaven,  "ma,"  she  exclaimed,  "povero  disgraziato, 
ha  ammazzato  suo  zio."  ("Poor  unfortunate  fel- 
low, he  has  murdered  his  uncle.") 

On  mentioning  this,  which  I  heard  when  taken  to 
Italy  as  a  boy  by  my  father,  the  person  to  whom  I 
told  it  showed  no  surprise.  He  said  that  he  had 
been  driven  for  two  or  three  years  in  a  certain 
city  by  a  young  Sicilian  cabdriver  of  prepossessing 
manners  and  appearance,  but  then  lost  sight  of  him. 
On  asking  what  had  become  of  him,  he  was  told 
that  he  was  in  prison  for  having  shot  at  his  father 
with  intent  to  kill  him — happily  without  serious 
result.  Some  years  later  my  informant  again  found 
himself  warmly  accosted  by  the  prepossessing  young 
cabdriver.  "Ah,  caro  signore,"  he  exclaimed,  "sono 
cinque  anni  che  non  lo  vedo — tre  anni  di  militare,  e 
due  anni  di  disgrazia,"  &c.  ("My  dear  sir,  it  is 
five  years  since  I  saw  you — three  years  of  military 
service,  and  two  of  misfortune") — during  which 
last  the  poor  fellow  had  been  in  prison.  Of  moral 
sense  he  showed  not  so  much  as  a  trace.  He  and 
his  father  were  now  on  excellent  terms,  and  were 
likely  to  remain  so  unless  either  of  them  should 
again  have  the  misfortune  mortally  to  offend  the 
other. 

In  the  following  chapter  I  will  give  a  few  ex- 
amples of  the  way  in  which  what  we  should  call 

95 


Erewhon 


misfortune,  hardship,  or  disease  are  dealt  with  by 
the  Erewhonians,  but  for  the  moment  will  return 
to  their  treatment  of  cases  that  with  us  are  criminal. 
As  I  have  already  said,  these,  though  not  judicially 
punishable,  are  recognized  as  requiring  correction. 
Accordingly,  there  exists  a  class  of  men  trained  in 
soul-craft,  whom  they  call  straighteners,  as  nearly 
as  I  can  translate  a  word  which  literally  means 
"one  who  bends  back  the  crooked."  These  men 
practice  much  as  medical  men  in  England,  and  re- 
ceive a  quasi-surreptitious  fee  on  every  visit.  They 
are  treated  with  the  same  unreserve,  and  obeyed  as 
readily,  as  our  own  doctors — that  is  to  say,  on  the 
whole  sufficiently — because  people  know  that  it  is 
their  interest  to  get  well  as  soon  as  they  can,  and 
that  they  will  not  be  scouted  as  they  would  be  if 
their  bodies  were  out  of  order,  even  though  they 
may  have  to  undergo  a  very  painful  course  of  treat- 
ment. 

When  I  say  that  they  will  not  be  scouted,  I  do 
not  mean  that  an  Erewhonian  will  suffer  no  social 
inconvenience  in  consequence,  we  will  say,  of  hav- 
ing committed  fraud.  Friends  will  fall  away  from 
him  because  of  his  being  less  pleasant  company, 
just  as  we  ourselves  are  disinclined  to  make  com- 
panions of  those  who  are  either  poor  or  poorly. 
No  one  with  any  sense  of  self-respect  will  place  him- 
self on  an  equality  in  the  matter  of  affection  with 
those  who  are  less  lucky  than  himself  in  birth, 
health,  money,  good  looks,  capacity,  or  anything 
else.     Indeed,  that  dislike  and  even  disgust  should 

96 


Current  Opinions 


be  felt  by  the  fortunate  for  the  unfortunate,  or  at 
any  rate  for  those  who  have  been  discovered  to 
have  met  with  any  of  the  more  serious  and  less 
familiar  misfortunes,  is  not  only  natural,  but  desir- 
able for  any  society,  whether  of  man  or  brute. 

The  fact,  therefore,  that  the  Erewhonians  attach 
none  of  that  guilt  to  crime  which  they  do  to  physi- 
cal ailments,  does  not  prevent  the  more  selfish 
among  them  from  neglecting  a  friend  who  has 
robbed  a  bank,  for  instance,  till  he  has  fully  recov- 
ered ;  but  it  does  prevent  them  from  even  thinking 
of  treating  criminals  with  that  contemptuous  tone 
which  would  seem  to  say,  "I,  if  I  were  you,  should 
be  a  better  man  than  you  are,"  a  tone  which  is 
held  quite  reasonable  in  regard  to  physical  ailment. 
Hence,  though  they  conceal  ill  health  by  every  cun- 
ning and  hypocrisy  and  artifice  which  they  can  de- 
vise, they  are  quite  open  about  the  most  flagrant 
mental  diseases,  should  they  happen  to  exist,  which 
to  do  the  people  justice  is  not  often.  Indeed,  there 
are  some  who  are,  so  to  speak,  spiritual  valetudina- 
rians, and  who  make  themselves  exceedingly  ridicu- 
lous by  their  nervous  supposition  that  they  are 
wicked,  while  they  are  very  tolerable  people  all  the 
time.  This  however  is  exceptional;  and  on  the 
whole  they  use  much  the  same  reserve  or  unreserve 
about  the  state  of  their  moral  welfare  as  we  do 
about  our  health. 

Hence  all  the  ordinary  greetings  among  ourselves, 
such  as,  How  do  you  do?  and  the  like,  are  consid- 
ered signs  of  gross  ill-breeding;  nor  do  the  politer 

97 


Erewhon 


classes  tolerate  even  such  a  common  complimentary 
remark  as  telling  a  man  that  he  is  looking  well. 
They  salute  each  other  with,  "I  hope  you  are  good 
this  morning;"  or  "I  hope  you  have  recovered  from 
the  snappishness  from  which  you  were  suffering 
when  I  last  saw  you;"  and  if  the  person  saluted  has 
not  been  good,  or  is  still  snappish,  he  says  so  at 
once  and  is  condoled  with  accordingly.  Indeed, 
the  straighteners  have  gone  so  far  as  to  give  names 
from  the  hypothetical  language  (as  taught  at  the 
Colleges  of  Unreason),  to  all  known  forms  of  men- 
tal indisposition,  and  to  classify  them  according 
to  a  system  of  their  own,  which,  though  I  could 
not  understand  it,  seemed  to  work  well  in  practice ; 
for  they  are  always  able  to  tell  a  man  what  is  the 
matter  with  him  as  soon  as  they  have  heard  his 
story,  and  their  familiarity  with  the  long  names 
assures  him  that  they  thoroughly  understand  his 
case. 

The  reader  will  have  no  difficulty  in  believing 
that  the  laws  regarding  ill  health  were  frequently 
evaded  by  the  help  of  recognized  fictions,  which 
every  one  understood,  but  which  it  would  be  consid- 
ered gross  ill-breeding  to  even  seem  to  understand. 
Thus,  a  day  or  two  after  my  arrival  at  the  Nos- 
nibors',  one  of  the  many  ladies  who  called  on  me 
made  excuses  for  her  husband's  only  sending  his 
card,  on  the  ground  that  when  going  through  the 
public  market-place  that  morning  he  had  stolen  a 
pair  of  socks.  I  had  already  been  warned  that  I 
should  never  show  surprise,  so  I  merely  expressed 

98 


Current  Opinions 


my  sympathy,  and  said  that  though  I  had  only  been 
in  the  capital  so  short  a  time,  I  had  already  had 
a  very  narrow  escape  from  stealing  a  clothes-brush, 
and  that  though  I  had  resisted  temptation  so  far, 
I  was  sadly  afraid  that  if  I  saw  any  object  of  spe- 
cial interest  that  was  neither  too  hot  nor  too  heavy, 
I  should  have  to  put  myself  in  the  straightener's 
hands. 

Mrs.  Nosnibor,  who  had  been  keeping  an  ear  on 
all  that  I  had  been  saying,  praised  me  when  the 
lady  had  gone.  Nothing,  she  said,  could  have  been 
more  polite  according  to  Erewhonian  etiquette.  She 
then  explained  that  to  have  stolen  a  pair  of  socks, 
or  "to  have  the  socks"  (in  more  colloquial  lan- 
guage), was  a  recognized  way  of  saying  that  the 
person  in  question  was  slightly  indisposed. 

In  spite  of  all  this  they  have  a  keen  sense  of  the 
enjoyment  consequent  upon  what  they  call  being 
"well."  They  admire  mental  health  and  love  it  in 
other  people,  and  take  all  the  pains  they  can  (con- 
sistently with  their  other  duties)  to  secure  it  for 
themselves.  They  have  an  extreme  dislike  to  marry- 
ing into  what  they  consider  unhealthy  families. 
They  send  for  the  straightener  at  once  whenever 
they  have  been  guilty  of  anything  seriously  flagi- 
tious— often  even  if  they  think  that  they  are  on 
the  point  of  committing  it;  and  though  his  remedies 
are  sometimes  exceedingly  painful,  involving  close 
confinement  for  weeks,  and  in  some  cases  the  most 
cruel  physical  tortures,  I  never  heard  of  a  reason- 
able Erewhonian  refusing  to  do  what  his  straight- 

99 


Erewhon 


ener  told  him,  any  more  than  of  a  reasonable  Eng- 
lishman refusing  to  undergo  even  the  most  fright- 
ful operation,  if  his  doctors  told  him  it  was  neces- 
sary. 

We  in  England  never  shrink  from  telling  our 
doctor  what  is  the  matter  with  us  merely  through 
the  fear  that  he  will  hurt  us.  We  let  him  do  his 
worst  upon  us,  and  stand  it  without  a  murmur,  be- 
cause we  are  not  scouted  for  being  ill,  and  because 
we  know  that  the  doctor  is  doing  his  best  to  cure 
us,  and  that  he  can  judge  of  our  case  better  than 
we  can;  but  we  should  conceal  all  illness  if  we  were 
treated  as  the  Erewhonians  are  when  they  have 
anything  the  matter  with  them;  we  should  do  the 
same  as  with  moral  and  intellectual  diseases, — we 
should  feign  health  with  the  most  consummate  art, 
till  we  were  found  out,  and  should  hate  a  single 
flogging  given  in  the  way  of  mere  punishment  more 
than  the  amputation  of  a  limb,  if  it  were  kindly  and 
courteously  performed  from  a  wish  to  help  us  out 
of  our  difficulty,  and  with  the  full  consciousness 
on  the  part  of  the  doctor  that  it  was  only  by  an 
accident  of  constitution  that  he  was  not  in  the  like 
plight  himself.  So  the  Erewhonians  take  a  flogging 
once  a  week,  and  a  diet  of  bread  and  water  for  two 
or  three  months  together,  whenever  their  straight- 
ener  recommends  it. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  even  my  host,  on  having 
swindled  a  confiding  widow  out  of  the  whole  of  her 
property,  was  put  to  more  actual  suffering  than  a 
man  will  readily  undergo  at  the  hands  of  an  Eng- 

ioo 


Current  Opinions 


lish  doctor.  And  yet  he  must  have  had  a  very 
bad  time  of  it.  The  sounds  I  heard  were  sufficient 
to  show  that  his  pain  was  exquisite,  but  he  never 
shrank  from  undergoing  it.  He  was  quite  sure  that 
it  did  him  good;  and  I  think  he  was  right.  I  can- 
not believe  that  that  man  will  ever  embezzle  money 
again.  He  may — but  it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
he  does  so. 

During  my  confinement  in  prison,  and  on  my 
journey,  I  had  already  discovered  a  great  deal  of  the 
above;  but  it  still  seemed  surpassingly  strange,  and 
I  was  in  constant  fear  of  committing  some  piece  of 
rudeness,  through  my  inability  to  look  at  things 
from  the  same  stand-point  as  my  neighbors;  but 
after  a  few  weeks'  stay  with  the  Nosnibors,  I  got 
to  understand  things  better,  especially  on  having 
heard  all  about  my  host's  illness,  of  which  he  told 
me  fully  and  repeatedly. 

It  seemed  that  he  had  been  on  the  Stock  Ex- 
change of  the  city  for  many  years  and  had  amassed 
enormous  wealth,  without  exceeding  the  limits  of 
what  was  generally  considered  justifiable,  or  at  any 
rate,  permissible  dealing;  but  at  length  on  several 
occasions  he  had  become  aware  of  a  desire  to  make 
money  by  fraudulent  representations,  and  had  actu- 
ally dealt  with  two  or  three  sums  in  a  way  which 
had  made  him  rather  uncomfortable.  He  had  un- 
fortunately made  light  of  it  and  pooh-poohed  the 
ailment,  until  circumstances  eventually  presented 
themselves  which  enabled  him  to  cheat  upon  a  very 
considerable  scale ; — he  told  me  what  they  were,  and 

IOI 


Erewhon 


they  were  about  as  bad  as  anything  could  ber  but  I 
need  not  detail  them; — he  seized  the  opportunity, 
and  became  aware,  when  it  was  too  late,  that  he 
must  be  seriously  out  of  order.  He  had  neglected 
himself  too  long. 

He  drove  home  at  once,  broke  the  news  to  his 
wife  and  daughters  as  gently  as  he  could,  and  sent 
off  for  one  of  the  most  celebrated  straighteners  of 
the  kingdom  to  a  consultation  with  the  family  prac- 
titioner, for  the  case  was  plainly  serious.  On  the 
arrival  of  the  straightener  he  told  his  story,  and  ex- 
pressed his  fear  that  his  morals  must  be  perma- 
nently impaired. 

The  eminent  man  reassured  him  with  a  few  cheer- 
ing words,  and  then  proceeded  to  make  a  more  care- 
ful diagnosis  of  the  case.  He  inquired  concerning 
Mr.  Nosnibor's  parents — had  their  moral  health 
been  good?  He  was  answered  that  there  had  not 
been  anything  seriously  amiss  with  them,  but  that 
his  maternal  grandfather,  whom  he  wTas  supposed 
to  resemble  somewhat  in  person,  had  been  a  con- 
summate scoundrel  and  had  ended  his  days  in  a 
hospital, — while  a  brother  of  his  father's,  after  hav- 
ing led  a  most  flagitious  life  for  many  years,  had 
been  at  last  cured  by  a  philosopher  of  a  new  school, 
which  as  far  as  I  could  understand  it  bore  much  the 
same  relation  to  the  old  as  homoeopathy  to  allopathy. 
The  straightener  shook  his  head  at  this,  and  laugh- 
ingly replied  that  the  cure  must  have  been  due  to 
nature.  After  a  few  more  questions  he  wrote  a 
prescription  and  departed. 

1 02 


Current  Opinions 


I  saw  the  prescription.  It  ordered  a  fine  to  the 
State  of  double  the  money  embezzled;  no  food  but 
bread  and  milk  for  six  months,  and  a  severe  flog- 
ging once  a  month  for  twelve.  I  was  surprised  to 
see  that  no  part  of  the  fine  was  to  be  paid  to  the 
poor  woman  whose  money  had  been  embezzled,  but 
on  inquiry  I  learned  that  she  would  have  been  prose- 
cuted in  the  Misplaced  Confidence  Court,  if  she  had 
not  escaped  its  clutches  by  dying  shortly  after  she 
had  discovered  her  loss. 

As  for  Mr.  Nosnibor,  he  had  received  his  eleventh 
flogging  on  the  day  of  my  arrival.  I  saw  him  later 
on  the  same  afternoon,  and  he  was  still  twinged; 
but  there  had  been  no  escape  from  following  out 
the  straightener's  prescription,  for  the  so-called 
sanitary  laws  of  Erewhon  are  very  rigorous,  and 
unless  the  straightener  was  satisfied  that  his  orders 
had  been  obeyed,  the  patient  would  have  been  taken 
to  a  hospital  (as  the  poor  are),  and  would  have  been 
much  worse  off.  Such  at  least  is  the  law,  but  it  is 
never  necessary  to  enforce  it. 

On  a  subsequent  occasion  I  was  present  at  an  in- 
terview between  Mr.  Nosnibor  and  the  family 
straightener,  who  was  considered  competent  to 
watch  the  completion  of  the  cure.  I  was  struck 
with  the  delicacy  with  which  he  avoided  even  the 
remotest  semblance  of  inquiry  after  the  physical 
well-being  of  his  patient,  though  there  was  a  certain 
yellowness  about  my  host's  eyes  which  argued  a 
bilious  habit  of  body.  To  have  taken  notice  of  this 
would  have  been  a  gross  breach  of  professional  eti- 

103 


Erewhon 


quette.  I  was  told,  however,  that  a  straightener 
sometimes  thinks  it  right  to  glance  at  the  possibility 
of  some  slight  physical  disorder  if  he  finds  it  im- 
portant in  order  to  assist  him  in  his  diagnosis ;  but 
the  answers  which  he  gets  are  generally  untrue  or 
evasive,  and  he  forms  his  own  conclusions  upon  the 
matter  as  well  as  he  can.  Sensible  men  have  been 
known  to  say  that  the  straightener  should  in  strict 
confidence  be  told  of  every  physical  ailment  that  is 
likely  to  bear  upon  the  case ;  but  people  are  naturally 
shy  of  doing  this,  for  they  do  not  like  lowering 
themselves  in  the  opinion  of  the  straightener,  and 
his  ignorance  of  medical  science  is  supreme.  I 
heard  of  one  lady,  indeed,  who  had  the  hardihood 
to  confess  that  a  furious  outbreak  of  ill-humor  and 
extravagant  fancies  for  which  she  was  seeking  ad- 
vice was  possibly  the  result  of  indisposition.  "You 
should  resist  that,"  said  the  straightener,  in  a  kind, 
but  grave  voice;  "we  can  do  nothing  for  the  bodies 
of  our  patients;  such  matters  are  beyond  our  prov- 
ince, and  I  desire  that  I  may  hear  no  further  par- 
ticulars." The  lady  burst  into  tears,  and  promised 
faithfully  that  she  would  never  be  unwell  again. 

But  to  return  to  Mr.  Nosnibor.  As  the  afternoon 
wore  on  many  carriages  drove  up  with  callers  to 
inquire  how  he  had  stood  his  flogging.  It  had  been 
very  severe,  but  the  kind  inquiries  upon  every  side 
gave  him  great  pleasure,  and  he  assured  me  that  he 
felt  almost  tempted  to  do  wrong  again  by  the  solici- 
tude with  which  his  friends  had  treated  him  during 

104 


Current  Opinions 


his  recovery :  in  this  I  need  hardly  say  that  he  was 
not  serious. 

During  the  remainder  of  my  stay  in  the  country 
Mr.  Nosnibor  was  constantly  attentive  to  his  busi- 
ness, and  largely  increased  his  already  great  posses- 
sions; but  I  never  heard  a  whisper  to  the  effect  of 
his  having  been  indisposed  a  second  time,  or  made 
money  by  other  than  the  most  strictly  honorable 
means.  I  did  hear  afterwards  in  confidence  that 
there  had  been  reason  to  believe  that  his  health  had 
been  not  a  little  affected  by  the  straightener's  treat- 
ment, but  his  friends  did  not  choose  to  be  over- 
curious  upon  the  subject,  and  on  his  return  to  his 
affairs  it  was  by  common  consent  passed  over  as 
hardly  criminal  in  one  who  was  otherwise  so  much 
afflicted.  For  they  regard  bodily  ailments  as  the 
more  venial  in  proportion  as  they  have  been  pro- 
duced by  causes  independent  of  the  constitution. 
Thus  if  a  person  ruin  his  health  by  excessive  in- 
dulgence at  the  table  or  by  drinking,  they  count  it  to 
be  almost  a  part  of  the  mental  disease  which  brought 
it  about,  and  so  it  goes  for  little,  but  they  have  no 
mercy  on  such  illnesses  as  fevers  or  catarrhs  or 
lung  diseases,  which  to  us  appear  to  be  beyond  the 
control  of  the  individual.  They  are  only  more 
lenient  towards  the  diseases  of  the  young — such  as 
measles,  which  they  think  to  be  like  sowing  one's 
wild  oats — and  look  over  them  as  pardonable  in- 
discretions if  they  have  not  been  too  serious,  and 
if  they  are  atoned  for  by  complete  subsequent  re- 
covery. 

105 


Erewhon 


It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  office  of 
straightener  is  one  which  requires  long  and  special 
training.  It  stands  to  reason  that  he  who  would 
cure  a  moral  ailment  must  be  practically  acquainted 
with  it  in  all  its  bearings.  The  student  for  the  pro- 
fession of  straightener  is  required  to  set  apart  cer- 
tain seasons  for  the  practice  of  each  vice  in  turn, 
as  a  religious  duty.  These  seasons  are  called 
"fasts,"  and  are  continued  by  the  student  until  he 
finds  that  he  really  can  subdue  all  the  more  usual 
vices  in  his  own  person,  and  hence  can  advise  his 
patients  from  the  results  of  his  own  experience. 

Those  who  intend  to  be  specialists,  rather  than 
general  practitioners,  devote  themselves  more  par- 
ticularly to  the  branch  in  which  their  practice  will 
mainly  lie.  Some  students  have  been  obliged  to 
continue  their  exercises  during  their  whole  lives, 
and  some  devoted  men  have  actually  died  as  martyrs 
to  the  drink,  or  gluttony,  or  whatever  branch  of 
vice  they  may  have  chosen  for  their  especial  study. 
The  greater  number,  however,  take  no  harm  by  the 
excursions  into  the  various  departments  of  vice 
which  it  is  incumbent  upon  them  to  study. 

For  the  Erewhonians  hold  that  unalloyed  virtue 
is  not  a  thing  to  be  immoderately  indulged  in.  I 
was  shown  more  than  one  case  in  which  the  real 
or  supposed  virtues  of  parents  were  visited  upon 
the  children  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 
The  straighteners  say  that  the  most  that  can  be  truly 
said  for  virtue  is  that  there  is  a  considerable  balance 
in  its  favor,  and  that  it  is  on  the  whole  a  good  deal 

106 


Current  Opinions 


better  to  be  on  its  side  than  against  it;  but  they 
urge  that  there  is  much  pseudo-virtue  going  about, 
which  is  apt  to  let  people  in  very  badly  before  they 
find  it  out.  Those  men,  they  say,  are  best  who  are 
not  remarkable  either  for  vice  or  virtue.  I  told 
them  about  Hogarth's  idle  and  industrious  appren- 
tices, but  they  did  not  seem  to  think  that  the  indus- 
trious apprentice  was  a  very  nice  person. 


107 


CHAPTER    XI 

SOME  EREWHONIAN  TRIALS 

In  Erewhon  as  in  other  countries  there  are  some 
courts  of  justice  that  deal  with  special  subjects. 
Misfortune  generally,  as  I  have  above  explained,  is 
considered  more  or  less  criminal,  but  it  admits  of 
classification,  and  a  court  is  assigned  to  each  of  the 
main  heads  under  which  it  can  be  supposed  to  fall. 
Not  very  long  after  I  had  reached  the  capital  I 
strolled  into  the  Personal  Bereavement  Court,  and 
was  much  both  interested  and  pained  by  listening 
to  the  trial  of  a  man  who  was  accused  of  having 
just  lost  a  wife  to  whom  he  had  been  tenderly  at- 
tached, and  who  had  left  him  with  three  little  chil- 
dren, of  whom  the  eldest  was  only  three  years  old. 
The  defense  which  the  prisoner's  counsel  en- 
deavored to  establish  was,  that  the  prisoner  had 
never  really  loved  his  wife ;  but  it  broke  down  com- 
pletely, for  the  public  prosecutor  called  witness  after 
witness  who  deposed  to  the  fact  that  the  couple 
had  been  devoted  to  one  another,  and  the  prisoner 
repeatedly  wept  as  incidents  were  put  in  evidence 
that  reminded  him  of  the  irreparable  nature  of  the 
loss  he  had  sustained.  The  jury  returned  a  verdict 
of  guilty  after  very  little  deliberation,  but  recom- 
mended the  prisoner  to  mercy  on  the  ground  that  he 

108 


Some  Erewhonian  Trials 

had  but  recently  insured  his  wife's  life  for  a  consid- 
erable sum,  and  might  be  deemed  lucky  inasmuch 
as  he  had  received  the  money  without  demur  from 
the  insurance  company,  though  he  had  only  paid  two 
premiums. 

I  have  just  said  that  the  jury  found  the  prisoner 
guilty.  When  the  judge  passed  sentence,  I  was 
struck  with  the  way  in  which  the  prisoner's  counsel 
was  rebuked  for  having  referred  to  a  work  in  which 
the  guilt  of  such  misfortunes  as  the  prisoner's  was 
extenuated  to  a  degree  that  roused  the  indignation 
of  the  court. 

"We  shall  have,"  said  the  judge,  "these  crude 
and  subversionary  books  from  time  to  time  until  it 
is  recognized  as  an  axiom  of  morality  that  luck  is 
the  only  fit  object  of  human  veneration.  How  far 
a  man  has  any  right  to  be  more  lucky  and  hence 
more  venerable  than  his  neighbors,  is  a  point  that 
always  has  been,  and  always  will  be,  settled  proxi- 
mately by  a  kind  of  higgling  and  haggling  of  the 
market,  and  ultimately  by  brute  force ;  but  however 
this  may  be,  it  stands  to  reason  that  no  man  should 
be  allowed  to  be  unlucky  to  more  than  a  very  mod- 
erate extent." 

Then,  turning  to  the  prisoner,  the  judge  con- 
tinued : — "You  have  suffered  a  great  loss.  Nature 
attaches  a  severe  penalty  to  such  offenses,  and  hu- 
man law  must  emphasize  the  decrees  of  nature.  But 
for  the  recommendation  of  the  jury  I  should  have 
given  you  six  months'  hard  labor.  I  will,  however, 
commute  your  sentence  to  one  of  three  months,  with 

109 


Erewhon 


the  option  of  a  fine  of  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  the 
money  you  have  received  from  the  insurance  com- 
pany." 

The  prisoner  thanked  the  judge,  and  said  that  as 
he  had  no  one  to  look  after  his  children  if  he  was 
sent  to  prison,  he  would  embrace  the  option  mer- 
cifully permitted  him  by  his  lordship,  and  pay  the 
sum  he  had  named.  He  was  then  removed  from 
the  dock. 

The  next  case  was  that  of  a  youth  barely  arrived 
at  man's  estate,  who  was  charged  with  having  been 
swindled  out  of  large  property  during  his  minority 
by  his  guardian,  who  was  also  one  of  his  nearest 
relations.  His  father  had  been  long  dead,  and  it 
was  for  this  reason  that  his  offense  came  on  for 
trial  in  the  Personal  Bereavement  Court.  The  lad, 
who  was  undefended,  pleaded  that  he  was  young, 
inexperienced,  greatly  in  awe  of  his  guardian,  and 
without  independent  professional  advice.  "Young 
man,"  said  the  judge  sternly,  "do  not  talk  nonsense. 
People  have  no  right  to  be  young,  inexperienced, 
greatly  in  awe  of  their  guardians,  and  without  inde- 
pendent professional  advice.  If  by  such  indiscre- 
tions they  outrage  the  moral  sense  of  their  friends, 
they  must  expect  to  suffer  accordingly."  He  then 
ordered  the  prisoner  to  apologize  to  his  guardian, 
and  to  receive  twelve  strokes  with  a  cat-of -nine-tails. 

But  I  shall  perhaps  best  convey  to  the  reader  an 
idea  of  the  entire  perversion  of  thought  which  ex- 
ists among  this  extraordinary  people,  by  describing 
the  public  trial  of  a  man  who  was  accused  of  pul- 

IIO 


Some  Erewhonian  Trials 

monary  consumption — an  offense  which  was  pun- 
ished with  death  until  quite  recently.  It  did  not 
occur  till  I  had  been  some  months  in  the  country, 
and  I  am  deviating  from  chronological  order  in 
giving  it  here;  but  I  had  perhaps  better  do  so  in 
order  that  I  may  exhaust  this  subject  before  pro- 
ceeding to  others.  Moreover,  I  should  never  come 
to  an  end  were  I  to  keep  to  a  strictly  narrative  form, 
and  detail  the  infinite  absurdities  with  which  I  daily 
came  in  contact. 

The  prisoner  was  placed  in  the  dock,  and  the 
jury  were  sworn  much  as  in  Europe;  almost  all 
our  own  modes  of  procedure  were  reproduced,  even 
to  the  requiring  the  prisoner  to  plead  guilty  or  not 
guilty.  He  pleaded  not  guilty,  and  the  case  pro- 
ceeded. The  evidence  for  the  prosecution  was  very 
strong;  but  I  must  do  the  court  the  justice  to  ob- 
serve that  the  trial  was  absolutely  impartial.  Coun- 
sel for  the  prisoner  was  allowed  to  urge  everything 
that  could  be  said  in  his  defense:  the  line  taken 
was  that  the  prisoner  was  simulating  consumption  in 
order  to  defraud  an  insurance  company,  from  which 
he  was  about  to  buy  an  annuity,  and  that  he  hoped 
thus  to  obtain  it  on  more  advantageous  terms.  If 
this  could  have  been  shown  to  be  the  case  he  would 
have  escaped  a  criminal  prosecution,  and  been  sent 
to  a  hospital  as  for  a  moral  ailment.  The  view, 
however,  was  one  which  could  not  be  reasonably 
sustained,  in  spite  of  all  the  ingenuity  and  eloquence 
of  one  of  the  most  celebrated  advocates  of  the  coun- 
try.   The  case  was  only  too  clear,  for  the  prisoner 

in 


Erewhon 


was  almost  at  the  point  of  death,  and  it  was  aston- 
ishing that  he  had  not  been  tried  and  convicted  long 
previously.  His  coughing  was  incessant  during  the 
whole  trial,  and  it  was  all  that  the  two  jailors  in 
charge  of  him  could  do  to  keep  him  on  his  legs  until 
it  was  over. 

The  summing  up  of  the  judge  was  admirable.  He 
dwelt  upon  every  point  that  could  be  construed  in 
favor  of  the  prisoner,  but  as  he  proceeded  it  became 
clear  that  the  evidence  was  too  convincing  to  admit 
of  doubt,  and  there  was  but  one  opinion  in  the  court 
as  to  the  impending  verdict  when  the  jury  retired 
from  the  box.  They  were  absent  for  about  ten  min- 
utes, and  on  their  return  the  foreman  pronounced 
the  prisoner  guilty.  There  was  a  faint  murmur  of 
applause,  but  it  was  instantly  repressed.  The  judge 
then  proceeded  to  pronounce  sentence  in  words 
which  I  can  never  forget,  and  which  I  copied  out 
into  a  note-book  next  day  from  the  report  that  was 
published  in  the  leading  newspaper.  I  must  con- 
dense it  somewhat,  and  nothing  which  I  could  say 
would  give  more  than  a  faint  idea  of  the  solemn,  not 
to  say  majestic,  severity  with  which  it  was  delivered. 
The  sentence  was  as  follows : — 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,  you  have  been  accused  of 
the  great  crime  of  laboring  under  pulmonary  con- 
sumption, and  after  an  impartial  trial  before  a  jury 
of  your  countrymen,  you  have  been  found  guilty. 
Against  the  justice  of  the  verdict  I  can  say  nothing : 
the  evidence  against  you  was  conclusive,  and  it  only 
remains  for  me  to  pass  such  a  sentence  upon  you, 

112 


Some  Erewhonian  Trials 

as  shall  satisfy  the  ends  of  the  law.  That  sentence 
must  be  a  very  severe  one.  It  pains  me  much  to  see 
one  who  is  yet  so  young,  and  whose  prospects  in  life 
were  otherwise  so  excellent,  brought  to  this  distress- 
ing condition  by  a  constitution  which  I  can  only  re- 
gard as  radically  vicious;  but  yours  is  no  case  for 
compassion :  this  is  not  your  first  offense :  you  have 
led  a  career  of  crime,  and  have  only  profited  by  the 
leniency  shown  you  upon  past  occasions,  to  offend 
yet  more  seriously  against  the  laws  and  institutions 
of  your  country.  You  were  convicted  of  aggravated 
bronchitis  last  year :  and  I  find  that  though  you  are 
now  only  twenty-three  years  old,  you  have  been  im- 
prisoned on  no  less  than  fourteen  occasions  for  ill- 
nesses of  a  more  or  less  hateful  character;  in  fact, 
it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  you  have  spent  the 
greater  part  of  your  life  in  a  jail. 

"It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  that  you  came 
of  unhealthy  parents,  and  had  a  severe  accident  in 
your  childhood  which  permanently  undermined 
your  constitution ;  excuses  such  as  these  are  the  ordi- 
nary refuge  of  the  criminal ;  but  they  cannot  for  one 
moment  be  listened  to  by  the  ear  of  justice.  I  am 
not  here  to  enter  upon  curious  metaphysical  ques- 
tions as  to  the  origin  of  this  or  that — questions  to 
which  there  would  be  no  end  were  their  introduction 
once  tolerated,  and  which  would  result  in  throwing 
the  only  guilt  on  the  tissues  of  the  primordial  cell, 
or  on  the  elementary  gases.  There  is  no  question 
of  how  you  came  to  be  wicked,  but  only  this — 
namely,  are  you  wicked  or  not  ?    This  has  been  de- 

"3 


Erewhon 


cicled  in  the  affirmative,  neither  can  I  hesitate  for  a 
single  moment  to  say  that  it  has  been  decided  justly. 
You  are  a  bad  and  dangerous  person,  and  stand 
branded  in  the  eyes  of  your  fellow-countrymen  with 
one  of  the  most  heinous  known  offenses. 

"It  is  not  my  business  to  justify  the  law :  the  law 
may  in  some  cases  have  its  inevitable  hardships, 
and  I  may  feel  regret  at  times  that  I  have  not  the 
option  of  passing  a  less  severe  sentence  than  I  am 
compelled  to  do.  But  yours  is  no  such  case ;  on  the 
contrary,  had  not  the  capital  punishment  for  con- 
sumption been  abolished,  I  should  certainly  inflict 
it  now. 

"It  is  intolerable  that  an  example  of  such  terrible 
enormity  should  be  allowed  to  go  at  large  unpun- 
ished. Your  presence  in  the  society  of  respectable 
people  would  lead  the  less  able-bodied  to  think  more 
lightly  of  all  forms  of  illness;  neither  can  it  be  per- 
mitted that  you  should  have  the  chance  of  corrupt- 
ing unborn  beings  who  might  hereafter  pester  you. 
The  unborn  must  not  be  allowed  to  come  near  you : 
and  this  not  so  much  for  their  protection  ( for  they 
are  our  natural  enemies),  as  for  our  own;  for  since 
they  will  not  be  utterly  gainsaid,  it  must  be  seen  to 
that  they  shall  be  quartered  upon  those  who  are  least 
likely  to  corrupt  them. 

"But  independently  of  this  consideration,  and  in- 
dependently of  the  physical  guilt  which  attaches  it- 
self to  a  crime  so  great  as  yours,  there  is  yet  an- 
other reason  why  we  should  be  unable  to  show  you 
mercy,  even  if  we  were  inclined  to  do  so.     I  refer 

114 


Some  Erewhonian  Trials 

to  the  existence  of  a  class  of  men  who  lie  hidden 
among  us,  and  who  are  called  physicians.  Were 
the  severity  of  the  law  or  the  current  feeling  of 
the  country  to  be  relaxed  never  so  slightly,  these 
abandoned  persons,  who  are  now  compelled  to  prac- 
tise secretly  and  who  can  be  consulted  only  at  the 
greatest  risk,  would  become  frequent  visitors  in 
every  household;  their  organization  and  their  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  all  family  secrets  would 
give  them  a  power,  both  social  and  political,  which 
nothing  could  resist.  The  head  of  the  household 
would  become  subordinate  to  the  family  doctor,  who 
would  interfere  between  man  and  wife,  between 
master  and  servant,  until  the  doctors  should  be  the 
only  depositaries  of  power  in  the  nation,  and  have 
all  that  we  hold  precious  at  their  mercy.  A  time  of 
universal  dephysicalization  would  ensue;  medicine- 
vendors  of  all  kinds  would  abound  in  our  streets 
and  advertise  in  all  our  newspapers.  There  is  one 
remedy  for  this,  and  one  only.  It  is  that  which  the 
laws  of  this  country  have  long  received  and  acted 
upon,  and  consists  in  the  sternest  repression  of  all 
diseases  whatsoever,  as  soon  as  their  existence  is 
made  manifest  to  the  eye  of  the  law.  Would  that 
that  eye  were  far  more  piercing  than  it  is. 

"But  I  will  enlarge  no  further  upon  things  that 
are  themselves  so  obvious.  You  may  say  that  it  is 
not  your  fault.  The  answer  is  ready  enough  at 
hand,  and  it  amounts  to  this — that  if  you  had  been 
born  of  healthy  and  well-to-do  parents,  and  been 
well  taken  care  of  when  you  were  a  child,  you  would 

115 


Erewhon 


never  have  offended  against  the  laws  of  your  coun- 
try, nor  found  yourself  in  your  present  disgraceful 
position.  If  you  tell  me  that  you  had  no  hand  in 
your  parentage  and  education,  and  that  it  is  there- 
fore unjust  to  lay  these  things  to  your  charge,  I 
answer  that  whether  your  being  in  a  consumption 
is  your  fault  or  no,  it  is  a  fault  in  you,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  see  that  against  such  faults  as  this  the  com- 
monwealth shall  be  protected.  You  may  say  that 
it  is  your  misfortune  to  be  criminal ;  I  answer  that 
it  is  your  crime  to  be  unfortunate. 

"Lastly,  I  should  point  out  that  even  though  the 
jury  had  acquitted  you — a  supposition  that  I  cannot 
seriously  entertain — I  should  have  felt  it  my  duty 
to  inflict  a  sentence  hardly  less  severe  than  that 
which  I  must  pass  at  present ;  for  the  more  you  had 
been  found  guiltless  of  the  crime  imputed  to  you, 
the  more  you  would  have  been  found  guilty  of  one 
hardly  less  heinous — I  mean  the  crime  of  having 
been  maligned  unjustly. 

"I  do  not  hesitate  therefore  to  sentence  you  to 
imprisonment,  with  hard  labor,  for  the  rest  of  your 
miserable  existence.  During  that  period  I  would 
earnestly  entreat  you  to  repent  of  the  wrongs  you 
have  done  already,  and  to  entirely  reform  the  con- 
stitution of  your  whole  body.  I  entertain  but  little 
hope  that  you  will  pay  attention  to  my  advice ;  you 
are  already  far  too  abandoned.  Did  it  rest  with 
myself,  I  should  add  nothing  in  mitigation  of  the 
sentence  which  I  have  passed,  but  it  is  the  merciful 
provision  of  the  law  that  even  the  most  hardened 

116 


Some  Erewhonian  Trials 

criminal  shall  be  allowed  some  one  of  the  three  offi- 
cial remedies,  which  is  to  be  prescribed  at  the  time 
of  his  conviction.  I  shall  therefore  order  that  you 
receive  two  tablespoon fuls  of  castor  oil  daily,  until 
the  pleasure  of  the  court  be  further  known." 

When  the  sentence  was  concluded  the  prisoner 
acknowledged  in  a  few  scarcely  audible  words  that 
he  was  justly  punished,  and  that  he  had  had  a  fair 
trial.  He  was  then  removed  to  the  prison  from 
which  he  was  never  to  return.  There  was  a  second 
attempt  at  applause  when  the  judge  had  finished 
speaking,  but  as  before  it  was  at  once  repressed; 
and  though  the  feeling  of  the  court  was  strongly 
against  the  prisoner,  there  was  no  show  of  any 
violence  against  him,  if  one  may  except  a  little  hoot- 
ing from  the  bystanders  when  he  was  being  removed 
in  the  prisoners'  van.  Indeed,  nothing  struck  me 
more  during  my  whole  sojourn  in  the  country,  than 
the  general  respect  for  law  and  order. 


117 


CHAPTER    XII 

MALCONTENTS 

I  confess  that  I  felt  rather  unhappy  when  I  got 
home,  and  thought  more  closely  over  the  trial  that 
I  had  just  witnessed.  For  the  time  I  was  carried 
away  by  the  opinion  of  those  among  whom  I  was. 
They  had  no  misgivings  about  what  they  were  do- 
ing. There  did  not  seem  to  be  a  person  in  the  whole 
court  who  had  the  smallest  doubt  but  that  all  was 
exactly  as  it  should  be.  This  universal  unsuspect- 
ing confidence  was  imparted  by  sympathy  to  myself, 
in  spite  of  all  my  training  in  opinions  so  widely  dif- 
ferent. So  it  is  with  most  of  us :  that  which  we  ob- 
serve to  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  by  those 
around  us,  we  take  as  a  matter  of  course  ourselves. 
And  after  all,  it  is  our  duty  to  do  this,  save  upon 
grave  occasion. 

But  when  I  was  alone,  and  began  to  think  the 
trial  over,  it  certainly  did  strike  me  as  betraying  a 
strange  and  untenable  position.  Had  the  judge  said 
that  he  acknowledged  the  probable  truth,  namely, 
that  the  prisoner  was  born  of  unhealthy  parents,  or 
had  been  starved  in  infancy,  or  had  met  with  some 
accidents  which  had  developed  consumption;  and 
had  he  then  gone  on  to  say  that  though  he  knew  all 
this,  and  bitterly  regretted  that  the  protection  of 

118 


Malcontents 


society  obliged  him  to  inflict  additional  pain  on  one 
who  had  suffered  so  much  already,  yet  that  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  I  could  have  understood  the  posi- 
tion, however  mistaken  I  might  have  thought  it. 
The  judge  was  fully  persuaded  that  the  infliction 
of  pain  upon  the  weak  and  sickly  was  the  only  means 
of  preventing  weakness  and  sickliness  from  spread- 
ing, and  that  ten  times  the  suffering  now  inflicted 
upon  the  accused  was  eventually  warded  off  from 
others  by  the  present  apparent  severity.  I  could 
therefore  perfectly  understand  his  inflicting  what- 
ever pain  he  might  consider  necessary  in  order  to 
prevent  so  bad  an  example  from  spreading  further 
and  lowering  the  Erewhonian  standard;  but  it 
seemed  almost  childish  to  tell  the  prisoner  that  he 
:ou!d  have  been  in  good  health,  if  he  had  been  more 
fortunate  in  his  constitution,  and  been  exposed  to 
less  hardships  when  he  was  a  boy. 

I  write  with  great  diffidence,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  there  is  no  unfairness  in  punishing  people  for 
their  misfortunes,  or  rewarding  them  for  their  sheer 
good  luck;  it  is  the  normal  condition  of  human  life 
that  this  should  be  done,  and  no  right-minded  per- 
son will  complain  of  being  subjected  to  the  common 
treatment.  There  is  no  alternative  open  to  us.  It 
is  idle  to  say  that  men  are  not  responsible  for  their 
misfortunes.  What  is  responsibility?  Surely  to  be 
responsible  means  to  be  liable  to  have  to  give  an 
answer  should  it  be  demanded,  and  all  things  which 
live  are  responsible  for  their  lives  and  actions  should 

119 


Erewhon 


society  see  fit  to  question  them  through  the  mouth 
of  its  authorized  agent. 

What  is  the  offense  of  a  lamb  that  we  should  rear 
it,  and  tend  it,  and  lull  it  into  security,  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  killing  it?  Its  offense  is  the  mis- 
fortune of  being  something  which  society  wants  to 
eat,  and  which  cannot  defend  itself.  This  is  ample. 
Who  shall  limit  the  right  of  society  except  society 
itself?  And  what  consideration  for  the  individual 
is  tolerable  unless  society  be  the  gainer  thereby? 
Wherefore  should  a  man  be  so  richly  rewarded  for 
having  been  son  to  a  millionaire,  were  it  not  clearly 
provable  that  the  common  welfare  is  thus  better  fur- 
thered ?  We  cannot  seriously  detract  from  a  man's 
merit  in  having  been  the  son  of  a  rich  father  without 
imperiling  our  own  tenure  of  things  which  we  do 
not  wish  to  jeopardize;  if  this  were  otherwise  we 
should  not  let  him  keep  his  money  for  a  single  hour ; 
we  would  have  it  ourselves  at  once.  For  property 
is  robbery,  but  then,  we  are  all  robbers  or  would-be 
robbers  together,  and  have  found  it  essential  to  or- 
ganize our  thieving,  as  we  have  found  it  necessary 
to  organize  our  lust  and  our  revenge.  Property, 
marriage,  the  law;  as  the  bed  to  the  river,  so  rule 
and  convention  to  the  instinct ;  and  woe  to  him  who 
tampers  with  the  banks  while  the  flood  is  flowing. 

But  to  return.  Even  in  England  a  man  on  board 
a  ship  with  yellow  fever  is  held  responsible  for  his 
mischance,  no  matter  what  his  being  kept  in  quaran- 
tine may  cost  him.  He  may  catch  the  fever  and  die ; 
we  cannot  help  it ;  he  must  take  his  chance  as  other 

1 20 


Malcontents 


people  do ;  but  surely  it  would  be  desperate  unkind- 
ness  to  add  contumely  to  our  self-protection,  unless, 
indeed,  we  believe  that  contumely  is  one  of  our  best 
means  of  self-protection.  Again,  take  the  case  of 
maniacs.  We  say  that  they  are  irresponsible  for 
their  actions,  but  we  take  good  care,  or  ought  to 
take  good  care,  that  they  shall  answer  to  us  for  their 
insanity,  and  we  imprison  them  in  what  we  call  an 
asylum  (that  modern  sanctuary!)  if  we  do  not  like 
their  answers.  This  is  a  strange  kind  of  irresponsi- 
bility. What  we  ought  to  say  is  that  we  can  afford 
to  be  satisfied  with  a  less  satisfactory  answer  from 
a  lunatic  than  from  one  who  is  not  mad,  because 
lunacy  is  less  infectious  than  crime. 

We  kill  a  serpent  if  we  go  in  danger  by  it,  simply 
for  being  such  and  such  a  serpent  in  such  and  such 
a  place ;  but  we  never  say  that  the  serpent  has  only 
itself  to  blame  for  not  having  been  a  harmless 
creature.  Its  crime  is  that  of  being  the  thing  which 
it  is :  but  this  is  a  capital  offense,  and  we  are  right 
in  killing  it  out  of  the  way,  unless  we  think  it  more 
danger  to  do  so  than  to  let  it  escape;  nevertheless 
we  pity  the  creature,  even  though  we  kill  it. 

But  in  the  case  of  him  whose  trial  I  have  described 
above,  it  was  impossible  that  any  one  in  the  court 
should  not  have  known  that  it  was  but  by  an  accident 
of  birth  and  circumstances  that  he  was  not  himself 
also  in  a  consumption;  and  yet  none  thought  that 
it  disgraced  thein  to  hear  the  judge  give  vent  to  the 
most  cruel  truisms  about  him.  The  judge  himself 
was  a  kind  and  thoughtful  person.    He  was  a  man 

121 


Erewhon 


of  magnificent  and  benign  presence.  He  was  evi- 
dently of  an  iron  constitution,  and  his  face  wore  an 
expression  of  the  maturest  wisdom  and  experience ; 
yet  for  all  this,  old  and  learned  as  he  was,  he  could 
not  see  things  which  one  would  have  thought  would 
have  been  apparent  even  to  a  child.  He  could  not 
emancipate  himself  from,  nay,  it  did  not  even  occur 
to  him  to  feel,  the  bondage  of  the  ideas  in  which  he 
had  been  born  and  bred. 

So  was  it  also  with  the  jury  and  bystanders ;  and 
— most  wonderful  of  all — so  was  it  even  with  the 
prisoner.  Throughout  he  seemed  fully  impressed 
with  the  notion  that  he  was  being  dealt  with  justly: 
he  saw  nothing  wanton  in  his  being  told  by  the 
judge  that  he  was  to  be  punished,  not  so  much  as  a 
necessary  protection  to  society  (although  this  was 
not  entirely  lost  sight  of),  as  because  he  had  not 
been  better  born  and  bred  than  he  was.  But  this 
led  me  to  hope  that  he  suffered  less  than  he  would 
have  done  if  he  had  seen  the  matter  in  the  same 
light  that  I  did.    And,  after  all,  justice  is  relative. 

I  may  here  mention  that  only  a  few  years  before 
my  arrival  in  the  country,  the  treatment  of  all  con- 
victed invalids  had  been  much  more  barbarous  than 
now,  for  no  physical  remedy  was  provided,  and 
prisoners  were  put  to  the  severest  labor  in  all  sorts 
of  weather,  so  that  most  of  them  soon  succumbed 
to  the  extreme  hardships  which  they  suffered;  this 
was  supposed  to  be  beneficial  in  some  ways,  inas- 
much as  it  put  the  country  to  less  expense  for  the 
maintenance  of  its  criminal  class ;  but  the  growth  of 

122 


Malcontent 


luxury  had  induced  a  relaxation  of  the  old  severity, 
and  a  sensitive  age  would  no  longer  tolerate  what 
appeared  to  be  an  excess  of  rigor,  even  towards  the 
most  guilty;  moreover,  it  was  found  that  juries  were 
less  willing  to  convict,  and  justice  was  often  cheated 
because  there  was  no  alternative  between  virtually 
condemning  a  man  to  death  and  letting  him  go  free; 
it  was  also  held  that  the  country  paid  in  recommit- 
tals for  its  over-severity;  for  those  who  had  been 
imprisoned  even  for  trifling  ailments  were  often 
permanently  disabled  by  their  imprisonment;  and 
when  a  man  had  been  once  convicted,  it  was  prob- 
able that  he  would  seldom  afterwards  be  off  the 
hands  of  the  country. 

These  evils  had  long  been  apparent  and  recog- 
nized; yet  people  were  too  indolent,  and  too  indif- 
ferent to  suffering  not  their  own,  to  bestir  them- 
selves about  putting  an  end  to  them,  until  at  last  a 
benevolent  reformer  devoted  his  whole  life  to  effect- 
ing the  necessary  changes.  He  divided  all  illnesses 
into  three  classes — those  affecting  the  head,  the 
trunk,  and  the  lower  limbs — and  obtained  an  enact- 
ment that  all  diseases  of  the  head,  whether  internal 
or  external,  should  be  treated  with  laudanum,  those 
of  the  body  with  castor-oil,  and  those  of  the  lower 
limbs  with  an  embrocation  of  strong  sulphuric  acid 
and  water. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  classification  was  not  suffi- 
ciently careful,  and  that  the  remedies  were  ill 
chosen;  but  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  initiate  any  reform, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  familiarize  the  public  mind 

123 


Erewhon 


with  the  principle,  by  inserting  the  thin  end  of  the 
wedge  first :  it  is  not,  therefore,  to  be  wondered  at 
that  among  so  practical  a  people  there  should  still 
be  some  room  for  improvement.  The  mass  of  the 
nation  are  well  pleased  with  existing  arrangements, 
and  believe  that  their  treatment  of  criminals  leaves 
little  or  noth'iig  to  be  desired;  but  there  is  an  ener- 
getic minority  who  hold  what  are  considered  to  be 
extreme  opinions,  and  who  are  not  at  all  disposed 
to  rest  contented  until  the  principle  lately  admitted 
has  been  carried  further. 

I  was  at  some  pains  to  discover  the  opinions  of 
these  men,  and  their  reasons  for  entertaining  them. 
They  are  held  in  great  odium  by  the  generality  of 
the  public,  and  are  considered  as  subverters  of  all 
morality  whatever.  The  malcontents,  on  the  other 
hand,  assert  that  illness  is  the  inevitable  result  of 
certain  antecedent  causes,  which,  in  the  great  ma- 
jority of  cases,  were  beyond  the  control  of  the  indi- 
vidual, and  that  therefore  a  man  is  only  guilty  for 
being  in  a  consumption  in  the  same  way  as  rotten 
fruit  is  guilty  for  having  gone  rotten.  True,  the 
fruit  must  be  thrown  on  one  side  as  unfit  for  man's 
use,  and  the  man  in  a  consumption  must  be  put  in 
prison  for  the  protection  of  his  fellow-citizens;  but 
these  radicals  would  not  punish  him  further  than 
by  loss  of  liberty  and  a  strict  surveillance.  So  long 
as  he  was  prevented  from  injuring  society,  they 
would  allow  him  to  make  himself  useful  by  supply- 
ing whatever  of  society's  wants  he  could  supply.  If 
he  succeeded  in  thus  earning  money,  they  would 

124 


Malcontents 


have  him  made  as  comfortable  in  prison  as  possible, 
and  would  in  no  way  interfere  with  his  liberty  more 
than  was  necessary  to  prevent  him  from  escaping, 
or  from  becoming  more  severely  indisposed  within 
the  prison  walls;  but  they  would  deduct  from  his 
earnings  the  expenses  of  his  board,  lodging,  surveil- 
lance, and  half  those  of  his  conviction.  If  he  was 
too  ill  to  do  anything  for  his  support  in  prison,  they 
would  allow  him  nothing  but  bread  and  water,  and 
very  little  of  that. 

They  say  that  society  is  foolish  in  refusing  to 
allow  itself  to  be  benefited  by  a  man  merely  because 
he  has  done  it  harm  hitherto,  and  that  objection  to 
the  labor  of  the  diseased  classes  is  only  protection 
in  another  form.  It  is  an  attempt  to  raise  the  natu- 
ral price  of  a  commodity  by  saying  that  such  and 
such  persons,  who  are  able  and  willing  to  produce  it, 
shall  not  do  so,  whereby  every  one  has  to  pay  more 
for  it. 

Besides,  so  long  as  a  man  has  not  been  actually 
killed  he  is  our  fellow-creature,  though  perhaps  a 
very  unpleasant  one.  It  is  in  a  great  degree  the 
doing  of  others  that  he  is  what  he  is,  or  in  other 
words,  the  society  which  now  condemns  him  is 
partly  answerable  concerning  him.  They  say  that 
there  is  no  fear  of  any  increase  of  disease  under 
these  circumstances;  for  the  loss  of  liberty,  the  sur- 
veillance, the  considerable  and  compulsory  deduction 
from  the  prisoner's  earnings,  the  very  sparing  use 
of  stimulants  (of  which  they  would  allow  but  little 
to  any,  and  none  to  those  who  did  not  earn  them), 

125 


Erewhon 


the  enforced  celibacy,  and  above  all,  the  loss  of  repu- 
tation among  friends,  are  in  their  opinion  as  ample 
safeguards  to  society  against  a  general  neglect  of 
health  as  those  now  resorted  to.  A  man,  therefore, 
(so  they  say)  should  carry  his  profession  or  trade 
into  prison  with  him  if  possible ;  if  not,  he  must  earn 
his  living  by  the  nearest  thing  to  it  that  he  can ;  but 
if  he  be  a  gentleman  born  and  bred  to  no  profession, 
he  must  pick  oakum,  or  write  art  criticisms  for  a 
newspaper. 

These  people  say  further,  that  the  greater  part  of 
the  illness  which  exists  in  their  country  is  brought 
about  by  the  insane  manner  in  which  it  is  treated. 

They  believe  that  illness  is  in  many  cases  just  as 
curable  as  the  moral  diseases  which  they  see  daily 
cured  around  them,  but  that  a  great  reform  is  im- 
possible till  men  learn  to  take  a  juster  view  of  what 
physical  obliquity  proceeds  from.  Men  will  hide 
their  illnesses  as  long  as  they  are  scouted  on  its  be- 
coming known  that  they  are  ill;  it  is  the  scouting, 
not  the  physic,  which  produces  the  concealment ;  and 
if  a  man  felt  that  the  news  of  his  being  in  ill-health 
would  be  received  by  his  neighbors  as  a  deplorable 
fact,  but  one  as  much  the  result  of  necessary  ante- 
cedent causes  as  though  he  had  broken  into  a  jew- 
eler's shop  and  stolen  a  valuable  diamond  necklace — 
as  a  fact  which  might  just  as  easily  have  happened 
to  themselves,  only  that  they  had  the  luck  to  be  bet- 
ter born  or  reared;  and  if  they  also  felt  that  they 
would  not  be  made  more  uncomfortable  in  the 
prison  than  the  protection  of  society  against  infec- 

126 


Malcontents 


tion  and  the  proper  treatment  of  their  own  disease 
actually  demanded,  men  would  give  themselves  up 
to  the  police  as  readily  on  perceiving  that  they  had 
taken  smallpox,  as  they  go  now  to  the  straightener 
when  they  feel  that  they  are  on  the  point  of  forging 
a  will,  or  running  away  with  somebody  else's  wife. 

But  the  main  argument  on  which  they  rely  is  that 
of  economy:  for  they  know  that  they  will  sooner 
gain  their  end  by  appealing  to  men's  pockets,  in 
which  they  have  generally  something  of  their  own, 
than  to  their  heads,  which  contain  for  the  most  part 
little  but  borrowed  or  stolen  property ;  and  also,  they 
believe  it  to  be  the  readiest  test  and  the  one  which 
has  most  to  show  for  itself.  If  a  course  of  conduct 
can  be  shown  to  cost  a  country  less,  and  this  by  no 
dishonorable  saving  and  with  no  indirectly  increased 
expenditure  in  other  ways,  they  hold  that  it  requires 
a  good  deal  to  upset  the  arguments  in  favor  of  its 
being  adopted,  and  whether  rightly  or  wrongly  I 
cannot  pretend  to  say,  they  think  that  the  more 
medicinal  and  humane  treatment  of  the  diseased  of 
which  they  are  the  advocates  would  in  the  long  run 
be  much  cheaper  to  the  country :  but  I  did  not  gather 
that  these  reformers  were  opposed  to  meeting  some 
of  the  more  violent  forms  of  illness  with  the  cat-of- 
nine-tails,  or  with  death;  for  they  saw  no  so  ef- 
fectual way  of  checking  them;  they  would  therefore 
both  flog  and  hang,  but  they  would  do  so  pitifully. 

I  have  perhaps  dwelt  too  long  upon  opinions 
which  can  have  no  possible  bearing  upon  our  own, 

127 


Erewhon 


but  I  have  not  said  the  tenth  part  of  what  these 
would-be  reformers  urged  upon  me.  I  feel,  how- 
ever, that  I  have  sufficiently  trespassed  upon  the  at- 
tention of  the  reader. 


123 


CHAPTER    XIII 

THE  VIEWS  OF  THE  EREWHONIANS  CONCERNING 
DEATH 

The  Erewhonians  regard  death  with  less  abhor- 
rence than  disease.  If  it  is  an  offense  at  all,  it  is 
one  beyond  the  reach  of  the  law,  which  is  therefore 
silent  on  the  subject;  but  they  insist  that  the  greater 
number  of  those  who  are  commonly  said  to  die,  have 
never  yet  been  born — not,  at  least,  into  that  unseen 
world  which  is  alone  worthy  of  consideration.  As 
regards  this  unseen  world  I  understand  them  to  say 
that  some  miscarry  in  respect  to  it  before  they  have 
even  reached  the  seen,  and  some  after,  while  few  are 
ever  truly  born  into  it  at  all — the  greater  part  of  all 
the  men  and  women  over  the  whole  country  mis- 
carrying before  they  reach  it.  And  they  say  that 
this  does  not  matter  so  much  as  we  think  it  does. 

As  for  what  we  call  death,  they  argue  that  too 
much  has  been  made  of  it.  The  mere  knowledge 
that  we  shall  one  day  die  does  not  make  us  very 
unhappy ;  no  one  thinks  that  he  or  she  will  escape, 
so  that  none  are  disappointed.  We  do  not  care 
greatly  even  though  we  know  that  we  have  not  long 
to  live;  the  only  thing  that  would  seriously  affect 
us  would  be  the  knowing — or  rather  thinking  that 
we  know — the  precise  moment  at  which  the  blow 

129 


Erewhon 


will  fall.  Happily  no  one  can  ever  certainly  know 
this,  though  many  try  to  make  themselves  miserable 
by  endeavoring  to  find  it  out.  It  seems  as  though 
there  were  some  power  somewhere  which  merci- 
fully stays  us  from  putting  that  sting  into  the  tail 
of  death,  which  we  would  put  there  if  we  could,  and 
which  ensures  that  though  death  must  always  be  a 
bugbear,  it  shall  never  under  any  conceivable  cir- 
cumstances be  more  than  a  bugbear. 

For  even  though  a  man  is  condemned  to  die  in  a 
week's  time  and  is  shut  up  in  a  prison  from  which 
it  is  certain  that  he  cannot  escape,  he  will  always 
hope  that  a  reprieve  may  come  before  the  week  is 
over.  Besides,  the  prison  may  catch  fire,  and  he 
may  be  suffocated  not  with  a  rope,  but  with  common 
ordinary  smoke ;  or  he  may  be  struck  dead  by  light- 
ning' while  exercising  in  the  prison  yards.  When 
the  morning  is  come  on  which  the  poor  wretch  is 
to  be  hanged,  he  may  choke  at  his  breakfast,  or  die 
from  failure  of  the  heart's  action  before  the  drop 
has  fallen ;  and  even  though  it  has  fallen,  he  cannot 
be  quite  certain  that  he  is  going  to  die,  for  he  cannot 
know  this  till  his  death  has  actually  taken  place,  and 
it  will  be  too  late  then  for  him  to  discover  that  he 
was  going  to  die  at  the  appointed  hour  after  all. 
The  Erewhonians,  therefore,  hold  that  death,  like 
life,  is  an  affair  of  being  more  frightened  than  hurt. 

They  burn  their  dead,  and  the  ashes  are  presently 
scattered  over  any  piece  of  ground  which  the  de- 
ceased may  himself  have  chosen.  No  one  is  permit- 
ted to  refuse  this  hospitality  to  the  dead:  people, 

130 


Views  Concerning  Death 

therefore,  generally  choose  some  garden  or  orchard 
which  they  may  have  known  and  been  fond  of  when 
they  were  young.  The  superstitious  hold  that  those 
whose  ashes  are  scattered  over  any  land  become  its 
jealous  guardians  from  that  time  forward ;  and  the 
living  like  to  think  that  they  shall  become  identified 
with  this  or  that  locality  where  they  have  once  been 
happy. 

They  do  not  put  up  monuments,  ^or  write  epi- 
taphs, for  their  dead,  though  in  former  ages  their 
practice  was  much  as  ours,  but  they  have  a  custom 
which  comes  to  much  the  same  thing,  for  the  in- 
stinct of  preserving  the  name  alive  after  the  death 
of  the  body  seems  to  be  common  to  all  mankind. 
They  have  statues  of  themselves  made  while  they 
are  still  alive  (those,  that  is,  who  can  afford  it),  and 
write  inscriptions  under  them,  which  are  often  quite 
as  untruthful  as  are  our  own  epitaphs — only  in  an- 
other way.  For  the)''  do  not  hesitate  to  describe 
themselves  as  victims  to  ill  temper,  jealousy,  cov- 
etousness,  and  the  like,  but  almost  always  lay  claim 
to  personal  beauty,  whether  they  have  it  or  not,  and, 
often,  to  the  possession  of  a  large  sum  in  the  funded 
debt  of  the  country.  If  a  person  is  ugly  he  does  not 
sit  as  a  model  for  his  own  statue,  although  it  bears 
his  name.  He  gets  the  handsomest  of  his  friends  to 
sit  for  him,  and  one  of  the  ways  of  paying  a  compli- 
ment to  another  is  to  ask  him  to  sit  for  such  a  statue. 
Women  generally  sit  for  their  own  statues,  from  a 
natural  disinclination  to  admit  the  superior  beauty 
of  a  friend,  but  they  expect  to  be  idealized.     I  un- 

i3i 


Erewhon 


derstood  that  the  multitude  of  these  statues  was  be- 
ginning to  be  felt  as  an  encumbrance  in  almost 
every  family,  and  that  the  custom  would  probably 
before  long  fall  into  desuetude. 

Indeed,  this  has  already  come  about  to  the  satis- 
faction of  every  one,  as  regards  the  statues  of  pub- 
lic men — not  more  than  three  of  which  can  be  found 
in  the  whole  capital.  I  expressed  my  surprise  at 
this,  and  was  told  that  some  five  hundred  years  be- 
fore my  visit,  the  city  had  been  so  overrun  with 
these  pests,  that  there  was  no  getting  about,  and 
people  were  worried  beyond  endurance  by  having 
their  attention  called  at  every  touch  and  turn  to 
something,  which,  when  they  had  attended  to  it, 
they  found  not  to  concern  them.  Most  of  these 
statues  were  mere  attempts  to  do  for  some  man  or 
woman  what  an  animal-stuffer  does  more  success- 
fully for  a  dog,  or  bird,  or  pike.  They  were  gen- 
erally foisted  on  the  public  by  some  coterie  that  was 
trying  to  exalt  itself  in  exalting  some  one  else,  and 
not  un frequently  they  had  no  other  inception  than 
desire  on  the  part  of  some  member  of  the  coterie  to 
find  a  job  for  a  young  sculptor  to  whom  his  daugh- 
ter was  engaged.  Statues  so  begotten  could  never 
be  anything  but  deformities,  and  this  is  the  way  in 
which  they  are  sure  to  be  begotten,  as  soon  as  the 
art  of  making  them  at  all  has  become  widely  prac- 
tised. 

I  know  not  why,  but  all  the  noblest  arts  hold  in 
perfection  but  for  a  very  little  moment.  They  soon 
reach  a  height  from  which  they  begin  to  decline, 

132 


Views  Concerning  Death 

and  when  they  have  begun  to  decline  it  is  a  pity  that 
they  cannot  be  knocked  on  the  head;  for  an  art  is 
like  a  living  organism — better  dead  than  dying. 
There  is  no  way  of  making  an  aged  art  young  again ; 
it  must  be  born  anew  and  grow  up  from  infancy 
as  a  new  thing,  working  out  its  own  salvation  from 
effort  to  effort  in  all  fear  and  trembling. 

The  Erewhonians  five  hundred  years  ago  under- 
stood nothing  of  all  this — I  doubt  whether  they  even 
do  so  now.  They  wanted  to  get  the  nearest  thing 
they  could  to  a  stuffed  man  whose  stuffing  should 
not  grow  moldy.  They  should  have  had  some  such 
an  establishment  as  our  Madame  Tussaud's,  where 
the  figures  wear  real  clothes,  and  are  painted  up  to 
nature.  Such  an  institution  might  have  been  made 
self-supporting,  for  people  might  have  been  made 
to  pay  before  going  in.  As  it  was,  they  had  let  their 
poor  cold  grimy  colorless  heroes  and  heroines  loaf 
about  in  squares  and  in  corners  of  streets  in  all 
weathers,  without  any  attempt  at  artistic  sanitation 
— for  there  was  no  provision  for  burying  their  dead 
works  of  art  out  of  their  sight — no  drainage,  so  to 
speak,  whereby  statues  that  had  been  sufficiently  as- 
similated, so  as  to  form  part  of  the  residuary  im- 
pression of  the  country,  might  be  carried  away  out 
of  the  system.  Hence  they  put  them  up  with  a  light 
heart  on  the  cackling  of  their  coteries,  and  they  and 
their  children  had  to  live,  often  enough,  with  some 
wordy  windbag  whose  cowardice  had  cost  the  coun- 
try untold  loss  in  blood  and  money. 

At  last  the  evil  reached  such  a  pitch  that  the  peo- 
*33 


Erewhon 


pie  rose,  and  with  indiscriminate  fury  destroyed 
good  and  bad  alike.  Most  of  what  was  destroyed 
was  bad,  but  some  few  works  were  good,  and  the 
sculptors  of  to-day  wring  their  hands  over  some  of 
the  fragments  that  have  been  preserved  in  museums 
up  and  down  the  country.  For  a  couple  of  hundred 
years  or  so,  not  a  statue  was  made  from  one  end 
of  the  kingdom  to  the  other,  but  the  instinct  for 
having  stuffed  men  and  women  was  so  strong,  that 
people  at  length  again  began  to  try  to  make  them. 
Not  knowing  how  to  make  them,  and  having  no 
academies  to  mislead  them,  the  earliest  sculptors  of 
this  period  thought  things  out  for  themselves,  and 
again  produced  works  that  were  full  of  interest,  so 
that  in  three  or  four  generations  they  reached  a  per- 
fection hardly  if  at  all  inferior  to  that  of  several 
hundred  years  earlier. 

On  this  the  same  evils  recurred.  Sculptors  ob- 
tained high  prices — the  art  became  a  trade — schools 
arose  which  professed  to  sell  the  holy  spirit  of  art 
for  money ;  pupils  flocked  from  far  and  near  to  buy 
it,  in  the  hopes  of  selling  it  later  on,  and  were  struck 
purblind  as  a  punishment  for  the  sin  of  those  who 
sent  them.  Before  long  a  second  iconoclastic  fury 
would  infallibly  have  followed,  but  for  the  presci- 
ence of  a  statesman  who  succeeded  in  passing  an 
Act  to  the  effect  that  no  statue  of  any  public  man  or 
woman  should  be  allowed  to  remain  unbroken  for 
more  than  fifty  years,  unless  at  the  end  of  that  time 
a  jury  of  twenty-four  men  taken  at  random  from 
the  street  pronounced  in  favor  of  its  being  allowed  a 

134 


Views  Concerning  Death 

second  fifty  years  of  life.  Every  fifty  years  this 
reconsideration  was  to  be  repeated,  and  unless  there 
was  a  majority  of  eighteen  in  favor  of  the  retention 
of  the  statue,  it  was  to  be  destroyed. 

Perhaps  a  simpler  plan  would  have  been  to  forbid 
the  erection  of  a  statue  to  any  public  man  or  woman 
till  he  or  she  had  been  dead  at  least  one  hundred 
years,  and  even  then  to  insist  on  reconsideration  of 
the  claims  of  the  deceased  and  the  merit  of  the 
statue  every  fifty  years — but  the  working  of  the  Act 
brought  about  results  that  on  the  whole  were  satis- 
factory. For  in  the  first  place,  many  public  statues 
that  would  have  been  voted  under  the  old  system, 
were  not  ordered,  when  it  was  known  that  they 
would  be  almost  certainly  broken  up  after  fifty 
years,  and  in  the  second,  public  sculptors  knowing 
their  work  to  be  so  ephemeral,  scamped  it  to  an  ex- 
tent that  made  it  offensive  even  to  the  most  uncul- 
tured eye.  Hence  before  long  subscribers  took  to 
paying  the  sculptor  for  the  statue  of  their  dead 
statesmen,  on  condition  that  he  did  not  make  it. 
The  tribute  of  respect  was  thus  paid  to  the  deceased, 
the  public  sculptors  were  not  mulcted,  and  the  rest 
of  the  public  suffered  no  inconvenience. 

I  was  told,  however,  that  an  abuse  of  this  custom 
is  growing  up,  inasmuch  as  the  competition  for  the 
commission  not  to  make  a  statue  is  so  keen,  that 
sculptors  have  been  known  to  return  a  considerable 
part  of  the  purchase  money  to  the  subscribers,  by 
an  arrangement  made  with  them  beforehand.  Such 
transactions,  however,  are  always  clandestine.     A 

135 


Erewhon 


small  inscription  is  let  into  the  pavement,  where  the 
public  statue  would  have  stood,  which  informs  the 
reader  that  such  a  statue  has  been  ordered  for  the 
person,  whoever  he  or  she  may  be,  but  that  as  yet 
the  sculptor  has  not  been  able  to  complete  it.  There 
has  been  no  Act  to  repress  statues  that  are  intended 
for  private  consumption,  but  as  I  have  said,  the  cus- 
tom is  falling  into  desuetude. 

Returning  to  Erewhonian  customs  in  connection 
with  death,  there  is  one  which  I  can  hardly  pass 
over.  When  any  one  dies,  the  friends  of  the  family 
write  no  letters  of  condolence,  neither  do  they  at- 
tend the  scattering,  nor  wear  mourning,  but  they 
send  little  boxes  filled  with  artificial  tears,  and  with 
the  name  of  the  sender  painted  neatly  upon  the  out- 
side of  the  lid.  The  tears  vary  in  number  from  two 
to  fifteen  or  sixteen,  according  to  degree  of  intimacy 
or  relationship ;  and  people  sometimes  find  it  a  nice 
point  of  etiquette  to  know  the  exact  number  which 
they  ought  to  send.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  this 
attention  is  highly  valued,  and  its  omission  by  those 
from  whom  it  might  be  expected  is  keenly  felt. 
These  tears  were  formerly  stuck  with  adhesive  plas- 
ter to  the  cheeks  of  the  bereaved,  and  were  worn  in 
public  for  a  few  months  after  the  death  of  a  rela- 
tive; they  were  then  banished  to  the  hat  or  bonnet, 
and  are  now  no  longer  worn. 

The  birth  of  a  child  is  looked  upon  as  a  painful 
subject  on  which  it  is  kinder  not  to  touch :  the  ill- 
ness of  the  mother  is  carefully  concealed  until  the 
necessity  for  signing  the  birth-formula  (of  which 

136 


Views  Concerning  Death 

hereafter)  renders  further  secrecy  impossible,  and 
for  some  months  before  the  event  the  family  live  in 
retirement,  seeing  very  little  company.  When  the 
offense  is  over  and  done  with,  it  is  condoned  by  the 
common  want  of  logic;  for  this  merciful  provision 
of  nature,  this  buffer  against  collisions,  this  friction 
which  upsets  our  calculations  but  without  which  ex- 
istence would  be  intolerable,  this  crowning  glory  of 
human  invention  whereby  we  can  be  blind  and  see 
at  one  and  the  same  moment,  this  blessed  incon- 
sistency, exists  here  as  elsewhere;  and  though  the 
strictest  writers  on  morality  have  maintained  that  it 
is  wicked  for  a  woman  to  have  children  at  all,  inas- 
much as  it  is  wrong  to  be  out  of  health  that  good 
may  come,  yet  the  necessity  of  the  case  has  caused 
a  general  feeling  in  favor  of  passing  over  such 
events  in  silence,  and  of  assuming  their  non-exist- 
ence except  in  such  flagrant  cases  as  force  them- 
selves on  the  public  notice.  Against  these  the  con- 
demnation of  society  is  inexorable,  and  if  it  is  be- 
lieved that  the  illness  has  been  dangerous  and  pro- 
tracted, it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  woman  to  re- 
cover her  former  position  in  society. 

The  above  conventions  struck  me  as  arbitrary  and 
cruel,  but  they  put  a  stop  to  many  fancied  ailments ; 
for  the  situation,  so  far  from  being  considered  in- 
teresting, is  looked  upon  as  savoring  more  or  less 
distinctly  of  a  very  reprehensible  condition  of 
things,  and  the  ladies  take  care  to  conceal  it  as  long 
as  they  can  even  from  their  own  husbands,  in  antici- 
pation of  a  severe  scolding  as  scon  as  the  misde- 

137 


Erewhon 


meanor  is  discovered.  Also  the  baby  is  kept  out  of 
sight,  except  on  the  day  of  signing  the  birth- 
formula,  until  it  can  walk  and  talk.  Should  the  child 
unhappily  die,  a  coroner's  inquest  is  inevitable,  but 
in  order  to  avoid  disgracing  a  family  which  may 
have  been  hitherto  respected,  it  is  almost  invariably 
found  that  the  child  was  over  seventy-five  years  old, 
and  died  from  the  decay  of  nature. 


138 


CHAPTER    XIV 

MAHAINA 

I  continued  my  sojourn  with  the  Nosnibors.  In 
a  few  days  Mr.  Nosnibor  had  recovered  from  his 
flogging,  and  was  looking  forward  with  glee  to  the 
fact  that  the  next  would  be  the  last.  I  did  not  think 
that  there  seemed  any  occasion  even  for  this ;  but  he 
said  it  was  better  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  and  he 
would  make  up  the  dozen.  He  now  went  to  his  busi- 
ness as  usual;  and  I  understood  that  he  was  never 
more  prosperous,  in  spite  of  his  heavy  fine.  He  was 
unable  to  give  me  much  of  his  time  during  the  day ; 
for  he  was  one  of  those  valuable  men  who  are  paid, 
not  by  the  year,  month,  week,  or  day,  but  by  the 
minute.  His  wife  and  daughters,  however,  made 
much  of  me,  and  introduced  me  to  their  friends, 
who  came  in  shoals  to  call  upon  me. 

One  of  these  persons  was  a  lady  called  Mahaina. 
Zulora  (the  elder  of  my  host's  daughters)  ran  up 
to  her  and  embraced  her  as  soon  as  she  entered  the 
room,  at  the  same  time  inquiring  tenderly  after  her 
"poor  dipsomania."  Mahaina  answered  that  it  was 
just  as  bad  as  ever;  she  was  a  perfect  martyr  to  it, 
and  her  excellent  health  was  the  only  thing  which 
consoled  her  under  her  affliction. 

Then  the  other  ladies  joined  in  with  condolences 
139 


Erewhon 


and  the  never- failing  suggestions  which  they  had 
ready  for  every  mental  malady.  They  recommended 
their  own  straightener  and  disparaged  Mahaina's. 
Mrs.  Nosnibor  had  a  favorite  nostrum,  but  I  could 
catch  little  of  its  nature.  I  heard  the  words  "full 
confidence  that  the  desire  to  drink  will  cease  when 
the  formula  has  been  repeated  *  *  *  this  confi- 
dence is  everything  *  *  *  far  from  undervaluing  a 
thorough  determination  never  to  touch  spirits  again 
*  *  *  fail  too  often  *  *  *  formula  a  certain  cure 
(with  great  emphasis)  *  *  *  prescribed  form  *  *  * 
full  conviction."  The  conversation  then  became 
more  audible,  and  was  carried  on  at  considerable 
length.  I  should  perplex  myself  and  the  reader  by 
endeavoring  to  follow  the  ingenious  perversity  of 
all  they  said;  enough,  that  in  the  course  of  time  the 
visit  came  to  an  end,  and  Mahaina  took  her  leave 
receiving  affectionate  embraces  from  all  the  ladies. 
I  had  remained  in  trie  background  after  the  first 
ceremony  of  introduction,  for  I  did  not  like  the 
looks  of  Mahaina,  and  the  conversation  displeased 
me.  When  she  left  the  room  I  had  some  consola- 
tion in  the  remarks  called  forth  by  her  departure. 

At  first  they  fell  to  praising  her  very  demurely. 
She  was  all  this,  that  and  the  other,  till  I  disliked 
her  more  and  more  at  every  word,  and  inquired  how 
it  was  that  the  straighteners  had  not  been  able  to 
cure  her  as  they  had  cured  Mr.  Nosnibor. 

There  was  a  shade  of  significance  on  Mrs.  Nos- 
nibor's  face  as  I  said  this,  which  seemed  to  imply 
that  she  did  not  consider  Mahaina's  case  to  be  quite 

140 


Mahaina 


one  for  a  straightener.  It  flashed  across  me  that 
perhaps  the  poor  woman  did  not  drink  at  all.  I 
knew  that  I  ought  not  to  have  inquired,  but  I  could 
not  help  it,  and  asked  point  blank  whether  she  did 
or  not. 

"We  can  none  of  us  judge  of  the  condition  of 
other  people,"  said  Mrs.  Nosnibor  in  a  gravely 
charitable  tone  and  with  a  look  towards  Zulora. 

"Oh,  mamma,"  answered  Zulora,  pretending  to  be 
half  angry  but  rejoiced  at  being  able  to  say  out  what 
she  was  already  longing  to  insinuate;  "I  don't  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it.  It's  all  indigestion.  I  remember 
staying  in  the  house  with  her  for  a  whole  month  last 
summer,  and  I  am  sure  she  never  once  touched  a 
drop  of  wine  or  spirits.  The  fact  is,  Mahaina  is  a 
very  weakly  girl,  and  she  pretends  to  get  tipsy  in 
order  to  win  a  forbearance  from  her  friends  to 
which  she  is  not  entitled.  She  is  not  strong  enough 
for  her  calisthenic  exercises,  and  she  knows  she 
would  be  made  to  do  them  unless  her  inability  was 
referred  to  moral  causes." 

Here  the  younger  sister,  who  was  ever  sweet  and 
kind,  remarked  that  she  thought  Mahaina  did  tipple 
occasionally.  "I  also  think,"  she  added,  "that  she 
sometimes  takes  poppy  juice." 

"Well,  then,  perhaps  she  does  drink  sometimes," 
said  Zulora ;  "but  she  would  make  us  all  think  that 
she  does  it  much  oftener  in  order  to  hide  her  weak- 
ness." 

And  so  they  went  on  for  half  an  hour  and  more, 
bandying  about  the  question  as  to  how  far  their 

141 


Erewhon 


late  visitor's  intemperance  was  real  or  no.  Every 
now  and  then  they  would  join  in  some  charitable 
commonplace,  and  would  pretend  to  be  all  of  one 
mind  that  Mahaina  was  a  person  whose  bodily 
health  would  be  excellent  if  it  were  not  for  her  un- 
fortunate inability  to  refrain  from  excessive  drink- 
ing ;  but  as  soon  as  this  appeared  to  be  fairly  settled 
they  began  to  be  uncomfortable  until  they  had  un- 
done their  work  and  left  some  serious  imputation 
upon  her  constitution.  At  last,  seeing  that  the  de- 
bate had  assumed  the  character  of  a  cyclone  or  cir- 
cular storm,  going  round  and  round  and  round  and 
round  till  one  could  never  say  where  it  began  nor 
where  it  ended,  I  made  some  apology  for  an  abrupt 
departure  and  retired  to  my  own  room. 

Here  at  least  I  was  alone,  but  I  was  very  un- 
happy. I  had  fallen  upon  a  set  of  people  who,  in 
spite  of  their  high  civilization  and  many  excellences, 
had  been  so  warped  by  the  mistaken  views  presented 
to  them  during  childhood  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration, that  it  was  impossible  to  see  how  they  could 
ever  clear  themselves.  Was  there  nothing  which  I 
could  say  to  make  them  feel  that  the  constitution 
of  a  person's  body  was  a  thing  over  which  he  or  she 
had  had  at  any  rate  no  initial  control  whatever, 
while  the  mind  was  a  perfectly  different  thing,  and 
capable  of  being  created  anew  and  directed  accord- 
ing to  the  pleasure  of  its  possessor?  Could  I  never 
bring  them  to  see  that  while  habits  of  mind  and 
character  were  entirely  independent  of  initial  mental 
force  and  early  education,  the  body  was  so  much  a 

142 


Mahaina 


creature  of  parentage  and  circumstances,  that  no 
punishment  for  ill-health  should  be  ever  tolerated 
save  as  a  protection  from  contagion,  and  that  even 
where  punishment  was  inevitable  it  should  be  at- 
tended with  compassion?  Surely,  if  the  unfortunate 
Mahaina  were  to  feel  that  she  could  avow  her  bodily 
weakness  without  fear  of  being  despised  for  her  in- 
firmities, and  if  there  were  medical  men  to  whom 
she  could  fairly  state  her  case,  she  would  not  hesi- 
tate about  doing  so  through  the  fear  of  taking  nasty 
medicine.  It  was  possible  that  her  malady  was  in- 
curable ( for  I  had  heard  enough  to  convince  me  that 
her  dipsomania  was  only  a  pretence  and  that  she 
was  temperate  in  all  her  habits)  ;  in  that  case  she 
might  perhaps  be  justly  subject  to  annoyances  or 
even  to  restraint;  but  who  could  say  whether  she 
was  curable  or  not,  until  she  was  able  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  her  symptoms  instead  of  concealing 
them  ?  In  their  eagerness  to  stamp  out  disease,  these 
people  overshot  their  mark ;  for  people  had  become 
so  clever  at  dissembling — they  painted  their  faces 
with  such  consummate  skill — they  repaired  the  de- 
cay of  time  and  the  effects  of  mischance  with  such 
profound  dissimulation — that  it  was  really  impossi- 
ble to  say  whether  any  one  was  well  or  ill  till  after 
an  intimate  acquaintance  of  months  or  years.  Even 
then  the  shrewdest  were  constantly  mistaken  in 
their  judgments,  and  marriages  were  often  con- 
tracted with  most  deplorable  results,  owing  to  the 
art  with  which  infirmity  had  been  concealed. 

It  appeared  to  me  that  the  first  step  towards  the 
143 


Erewhon 


cure  of  disease  should  be  the  announcement  of  the 
fact  to  a  person's  near  relations  and  friends.  If 
any  one  had  a  headache,  he  ought  to  be  permitted 
within  reasonable  limits  to  say  so  at  once,  and  to 
retire  to  his  own  bedroom  and  take  a  pill,  without 
every  one's  looking  grave  and  tears  being  shed  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  As  it  was,  even  upon  hearing  it 
whispered  that  somebody  else  was  subject  to  head- 
aches, a  whole  company  must  look  as  though  they 
had  never  had  a  headache  in  their  lives.  It  is  true 
they  were  not  very  prevalent,  for  the  people  were 
the  healthiest  and  most  comely  imaginable,  owing  to 
the  severity  with  which  ill  health  was  treated ;  still, 
even  the  best  were  liable  to  be  out  of  sorts  some- 
times, and  there  were  few  families  that  had  not  a 
medicine-chest  in  a  cupboard  somewhere. 


144 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  MUSICAL  BANKS 

On  my  return  to  the  drawing-room,  I  found  that 
the  Manama  current  had  expended  itself.  The  la- 
dies were  just  putting  away  their  work  and  prepar- 
ing to  go  out.  I  asked  them  where  they  were  going. 
They  answered  with  a  certain  air  of  reserve  that 
they  were  going  to  the  bank  to  get  some  money. 

Now  I  had  already  collected  that  the  mercantile 
affairs  of  the  Erewhonians  were  conducted  on  a 
totally  different  system  from  our  own ;  I  had,  how- 
ever, gathered  little  hitherto,  except  that  they  had 
two  distinct  commercial  systems,  of  which  the  one 
appealed  more  strongly  to  the  imagination  than  any- 
thing to  which  we  are  accustomed  in  Europe,  inas- 
much as  the  banks  that  were  conducted  upon  this 
system  were  decorated  in  the  most  profuse  fashion, 
and  all  mercantile  transactions  were  accompanied 
with  music,  so  that  they  were  called  Musical  Banks, 
though  the  music  was  hideous  to  a  European  ear. 

As  for  the  system  itself  I  never  understood  it, 
neither  can  I  do  so  now :  they  have  a  code  in  con- 
nection with  it,  which  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that  they  understand,  but  no  foreigner  can  hope  to 
do  so.  One  rule  runs  into,  and  against,  another  as 
in  a  most  complicated  grammar,  or  as  in  Chinese 

145 


Erewhon 


pronunciation,  wherein  I  am  told  that  the  slightest 
chancre  in  accentuation  or  tone  of  voice  alters  the 
meaning  of  a  whole  sentence.  Whatever  is  incoher- 
ent in  my  description  must  be  referred  to  the  fact  of 
my  never  having  attained  to  a  full  comprehension  of 
the  subject. 

So  far,  however,  as  I  could  collect  anything  cer- 
tain, I  gathered  that  they  have  two  distinct  curren- 
cies, each  under  the  control  of  its  own  banks  and 
mercantile  codes.  One  of  these  (the  one  with  the 
Musical  Banks)  was  supposed  to  be  the  system,  and 
to  give  out  the  currency  in  which  all  monetary  trans- 
actions should  be  carried  on;  and  as  far  as  I  could 
see,  all  who  wished  to  be  considered  respectable,  kept 
a  larger  or  smaller  balance  at  these  banks.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  there  is  one  thing  of  which  I  am  more 
sure  than  another,  it  is  that  the  amount  so  kept  had 
no  direct  commercial  value  in  the  outside  world; 
I  am  sure  that  the  managers  and  cashiers  of  the  Mu- 
sical Banks  were  not  paid  in  their  own  currency. 
Mr.  Nosnibor  used  to  go  to  these  banks,  or  rather 
to  the  great  mother  bank  of  the  city,  sometimes  but 
not  very  often.  He  was  a  pillar  of  one  of  the  other 
kind  of  banks,  though  he  appeared  to  hold  some 
minor  office  also  in  the  musical  ones.  The  ladies 
generally  went  alone ;  as  indeed  was  the  case  in  most 
families,  except  on  state  occasions. 

I  had  long  wanted  to  know  more  of  this  strange 
system,  and  had  the  greatest  desire  to  accompany 
my  hostess  and  her  daughters.  I  had  seen  them  go 
out  almost  every  morning  since  my  arrival  and  had 

146 


The  Musical  Banks 


noticed  that  they  carried  their  purses  in  their  hands, 
not  exactly  ostentatiously,  yet  just  so  as  that  those 
who  met  them  should  see  whither  they  were  going. 
I  had  never,  however,  yet  been  asked  to  go  with 
them  myself. 

It  is  not  easy  to  convey  a  person's  manner  by 
words,  and  I  can  hardly  give  any  idea  of  the  pe- 
culiar feeling  that  came  upon  me  when  I  saw  the 
ladies  on  the  point  of  starting  for  the  bank.  There 
was  a  something  of  regret,  a  something  as  though 
they  would  wish  to  take  me  with  them,  but  did  not 
like  to  ask  me,  and  yet  as  though  I  were  hardly  to 
ask  to  be  taken.  I  was  determined,  however,  to 
bring  matters  to  an  issue  with  my  hostess  about  my 
going  with  them,  and  after  a  little  parleying,  and 
many  inquiries  as  to  whether  I  was  perfectly  sure 
that  I  myself  wished  to  go,  it  was  decided  that  I 
might  do  so. 

We  passed  through  several  streets  of  more  or  less 
considerable  houses,  and  at  last  turning  round  a 
corner  we  came  upon  a  large  piazza,  at  the  end  of 
which  was  a  magnificent  building,  of  a  strange  but 
noble  architecture  and  of  great  antiquity.  It  did 
not  open  directly  on  to  the  piazza,  there  being  a 
screen,  through  which  was  an  archway,  between 
the  piazza  and  the  actual  precincts  of  the  bank. 
On  passing  under  the  archway  we  entered  upon  a 
green  sward,  round  which  there  ran  an  arcade  or 
cloister,  while  in  front  of  us  uprose  the  majestic 
towers  of  the  bank  and  its  venerable  front,  which 
was  divided  into  three  deep  recesses  and  adorned 

147 


Erewhon 


with  all  sorts  of  marbles  and  many  sculptures.  On 
either  side  there  were  beautiful  old  trees  wherein 
the  birds  were  busy  by  the  hundred,  and  a  number 
of  quaint  but  substantial  houses  of  singularly  com- 
fortable appearance ;  they  were  situated  in  the  midst 
of  orchards  and  gardens,  and  gave  me  an  impres- 
sion of  great  peace  and  plenty. 

Indeed  it  had  been  no  error  to  say  that  this 
building  was  one  that  appealed  to  the  imagination; 
it  did  more — it  carried  both  imagination  and  judg- 
ment by  storm.  It  was  an  epic  in  stone  and  marble, 
and  so  powerful  was  the  effect  it  produced  on  me, 
that  as  I  beheld  it  I  was  charmed  and  melted.  I 
felt  more  conscious  of  the  existence  of  a  remote 
past.  One  knows  of  this  always,  but  the  knowledge 
is  never  so  living  as  in  the  actual  presence  of  some 
witness  to  the  life  of  bygone  ages.  I  felt  how 
short  a  space  of  human  life  was  the  period  of  our 
own  existence.  I  was  more  impressed  with  my  own 
littleness,  and  much  more  inclinable  to  believe  that 
the  people  whose  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  was 
equal  to  the  upraising  of  so  serene  a  handiwork, 
were  hardly  likely  to  be  wrong  in  the  conclusions 
they  might  come  to  upon  any  subject.  My  feeling 
certainly  was  that  the  currency  of  this  bank  must  be 
the  right  one. 

We  crossed  the  sward  and  entered  the  building. 
If  the  outside  had  been  impressive  the  inside  was 
even  more  so.  It  was  very  lofty  and  divided  into 
several  parts  by  walls  which  rested  upon  massive 
pillars;  the  windows  were  filled  with  stained  glass 

148 


The  Musical  Banks 


descriptive  of  the  principal  commercial  incidents  of 
the  bank  for  many  ages.  In  a  remote  part  of  the! 
building  there  were  men  and  boys  singing;  this 
was  the  only  disturbing  feature,  for  as  the  gamut 
was  still  unknown,  there  was  no  music  in  the  coun- 
try which  could  be  agreeable  to  a  European  ear. 
The  singers  seemed  to  have  derived  their  inspira- 
tions from  the  songs  of  birds  and  the  wailing  of  the 
wind,  which  last  they  tried  to  imitate  in  melancholy 
cadences  that  at  times  degenerated  into  a  howl.  To 
my  thinking  the  noise  was  hideous,  but  it  produced 
a  great  effect  upon  my  companions,  who  professed 
themselves  much  moved.  As  soon  as  the  singing 
was  over,  the  ladies  requested  me  to  stay  where  I 
was  while  they  went  inside  the  place  from  which 
it  had  seemed  to  come. 

During  their  absence  certain  reflections  forced 
themselves  upon  me. 

In  the  first  place,  it  struck  me  as  strange  that  the 
building  should  be  so  nearly  empty;  I  was  almost 
alone,  and  the  few  besides  myself  had  been  led  by 
curiosity,  and  had  no  intention  of  doing  business 
with  the  bank.  But  there  might  be  more  inside. 
I  stole  up  to  the  curtain,  and  ventured  to  draw  the 
extreme  edge  of  it  on  one  side.  No,  there  was 
hardly  any  one  there.  I  saw  a  large  number  of 
cashiers,  all  at  their  desks  ready  to  pay  checks,  and 
one  or  two  who  seemed  to  be  the  managing  partners. 
I  also  saw  my  hostess  and  her  daughters  and  two 
or  three  other  ladies;  also  three  or  four  old  women 
and  the  boys  from  one  of  the  neighboring  Colleges 

149 


Erewhon 


of  Unreason ;  but  there  was  no  one  else.  This  did 
not  look  as  though  the  bank  was  doing  a  very  large 
business ;  and  yet  I  had  always  been  told  that  every 
one  in  the  city  dealt  with  this  establishment. 

I  cannot  describe  all  that  took  place  in  these  in- 
ner precincts,  for  a  sinister-looking  person  in  a  black 
gown  came  and  made  unpleasant  gestures  at  me 
for  peeping.  I  happened  to  have  in  my  pocket  one 
of  the  Musical  Bank  pieces,  which  had  been  given 
me  by  Mrs.  Nosnibor,  so  I  tried  to  tip  him  with 
it ;  but  having  seen  what  it  was,  he  became  so  angry 
that  I  had  to  give  him  a  piece  of  the  other  kind  of 
money  to  pacify  him.  When  I  had  done  this  he  be- 
came civil  directly.  As  soon  as  he  was  gone  I 
ventured  to  take  a  second  look,  and  saw  Zulora  in 
the  very  act  of  giving  a  piece  of  paper  which  looked 
like  a  check  to  one  of  the  cashiers.  He  did  not 
examine  it,  but  putting  his  hand  into  an  antique 
coffer  hard  by,  he  pulled  out  a  quantity  of  metal 
pieces  apparently  at  random,  and  handed  them  over 
without  counting  them;  neither  did  Zulora  count 
them,  but  put  them  into  her  purse  and  went  back 
to  her  seat  after  dropping  a  few  pieces  of  the  other 
coinage  into  an  alms  box  that  stood  by  the  cashier's 
side.  Mrs.  Nosnibor  and  Arowhena  then  did  like- 
wise, but  a  little  later  they  gave  all  (so  far  as  I 
could  see)  that  they  had  received  from  the  cashier 
back  to  a  verger,  who  I  have  no  doubt  put  it  back 
into  the  coffer  from  which  it  had  been  taken.  They 
then  began  making  towards  the  curtain;  whereon 
I  let  it  drop  and  retreated  to  a  reasonable  distance. 

150 


The  Musical  Banks 

They  soon  joined  me.  For  some  few  minutes  we 
all  kept  silence,  but  at  last  I  ventured  to  remark  that 
the  bank  was  not  so  busy  to-day  as  it  probably  often 
was.  On  this  Mrs.  Nosnibor  said  that  it  was  indeed 
melancholy  to  see  what  little  heed  people  paid  to 
the  most  precious  of  all  institutions.  I  could  say 
nothing  in  reply,  but  I  have  ever  been  of  opinion 
that  the  greater  part  of  mankind  do  approximately 
know  where  they  get  that  which  does  them  good. 

Mrs.  Nosnibor  went  on  to  say  that  I  must  not 
think  there  was  any  want  of  confidence  in  the  bank 
because  I  had  seen  so  few  people  there;  the  heart 
of  the  country  was  thoroughly  devoted  to  these  es- 
tablishments, and  any  sign  of  their  being  in  danger 
would  bring  in  support  from  the  most  unexpected 
quarters.  It  was  only  because  people  knew  them 
to  be  so  very  safe,  that  in  some  cases  (as  she  la- 
mented to  say  in  Mr.  Nosnibor's)  they  felt  that  their 
support  was  unnecessary.  Moreover  these  institu- 
tions never  departed  from  the  safest  and  most  ap- 
proved banking  principles.  Thus  they  never  al- 
lowed interest  on  deposit,  a  thing  now  frequently 
done  by  certain  bubble  companies,  which  by  doing  an 
illegitimate  trade  had  drawn  many  customers  away ; 
and  even  the  shareholders  were  fewer  than  for- 
merly, owing  to  the  innovations  of  these  unscrupu- 
lous persons,  for  the  Musical  Banks  paid  little  or 
no  dividend,  but  divided  their  profits  by  way  of 
bonus  on  the  original  shares  once  in  every  thirty 
thousand  years;  and  as  it  was  now  only  two  thou- 
sand years  since  there  had  been  one  of  these  distri- 

151 


Erewhon 


butions,  people  felt  that  they  could  not  hope  for 
another  in  their  own  time  and  preferred  investments 
whereby  they  got  some  more  tangible  return;  all 
which,  she  said,  was  very  melancholy  to  think  of. 

Having  made  these  last  admissions,  she  returned 
to  her  original  statement,  namely,  that  every  one  in 
the  country  really  supported  these  banks.  As  to 
the  fewness  of  the  people,  and  the  absence  of  the 
able-bodied,  she  pointed  out  to  me  with  some  jus- 
tice that  this  was  exactly  what  we  ought  to  expect. 
The  men  who  were  most  conversant  about  the  sta- 
bility of  human  institutions,  such  as  the  lawyers, 
men  of  science,  doctors,  statesmen,  painters,  and 
the  like,  were  just  those  who  were  most  likely  to  be 
misled  by  their  own  fancied  accomplishments,  and 
to  be  made  unduly  suspicious  by  their  licentious  de- 
sire for  greater  present  return,  which  was  at  the 
root  of  nine-tenths  of  the  opposition;  by  their  van- 
ity, which  would  prompt  them  to  affect  superiority 
to  the  prejudices  of  the  vulgar;  and  by  the  stings 
or  their  own  conscience,  which  was  constantly  up- 
braiding them  in  the  most  cruel  manner  on  account 
of  their  bodies,  which  were  generally  diseased. 

Let  a  person's  intellect  (she  continued)  be  never 
so  sound,  unless  his  body  is  in  absolute  health,  he 
can  form  no  judgment  worth  having  on  matters  of 
this  kind.  The  body  is  everything:  it  need  not 
perhaps  be  such  a  strong  body  (she  said  this  be- 
cause she  saw  that  I  was  thinking  of  the  old  and 
infirm-looking  folks  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  bank ) , 
but  it  must  be  in  perfect  health;  in  this  case,  the 

152 


The  Musical  Banks 


less  active  strength  it  had  the  more  free  would  be 
the  working  of  the  intellect,  and  therefore  the 
sounder  the  conclusion.  The  people,  then,  whom 
I  had  seen  at  the  bank  were  in  reality  the  very  ones 
whose  opinions  were  most  worth  having;  they  de- 
clared its  advantages  to  be  incalculable,  and  even 
professed  to  consider  the  immediate  return  to  be 
far  larger  than  they  were  entitled  to;  and  so  she 
ran  on,  nor  did  she  leave  off  till  we  had  got  back  to 
the  house. 

She  might  say  what  she  pleased,  but  her  manner 
carried  no  conviction,  and  later  on  I  saw  signs  of 
general  indifference  to  these  banks  that  were  not  to 
be  mistaken.  Their  supporters  often  denied  it,  but 
the  denial  was  generally  so  couched  as  to  add  an- 
other proof  of  its  existence.  In  commercial  panics, 
and  in  times  of  general  distress,  the  people  as  a 
mass  did  not  so  much  as  even  think  St  turning  to 
these  banks.  A  few  might  do  so,  some  from  habit 
and  early  training,  some  from  the  instinct  that 
prompts  us  to  catch  at  any  straw  when  we  think 
ourselves  drowning,  but  few  from  a  genuine  belief 
that  the  Musical  Banks  could  save  them  from  finan- 
cial ruin,  if  they  were  unable  to  meet  their  engage- 
ments in  the  other  kind  of  currency. 

In  conversation  with  one  of  the  Musical  Bank 
managers  I  ventured  to  hint  this  as  plainly  as  polite- 
ness would  allow.  He  said  that  it  had  been  more 
or  less  true  till  lately;  but  that  now  they  had  put 
fresh  stained  glass  windows  into  all  the  banks  in  the 
country,  and  repaired  the  buildings,  and  enlarged 

153 


Erewhon 


the  organs;  the  presidents,  moreover,  had  taken  to 
riding  in  omnibuses  and  talking  nicely  to  people  in 
the  streets,  and  to  remembering  the  ages  of  their 
children,  and  giving  them  things  when  they  were 
naughty,  so  that  all  would  henceforth  go  smoothly. 

"But  haven't  you  done  anything  to  the  money 
itself?"  said  I,  timidly. 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  he  rejoined;  "not  in  the 
least  necessary,  I  assure  you." 

And  yet  any  one  could  see  that  the  money  given 
out  at  these  banks  was  not  that  with  which  people 
bought  their  bread,  meat,  and  clothing.  It  was 
like  it  at  a  first  glance,  and  was  stamped  with  de- 
signs that  were  often  of  great  beauty;  it  was  not, 
again,  a  spurious  coinage,  made  with  the  intention 
that  it  should  be  mistaken  for  the  money  in  actual 
use;  it  was  more  like  a  toy  money,  or  the  counters 
used  for  certain  games  at  cards;  for,  notwithstand- 
ing the  beauty  of  the  designs,  the  material  on  which 
they  were  stamped  was  as  nearly  valueless  as  pos- 
sible. Some  were  covered  with  tin  foil,  but  the 
greater  part  were  frankly  of  a  cheap  base  metal  the 
exact  nature  of  which  I  was  not  able  to  determine. 
Indeed  they  were  made  of  a  great  variety  of  metals, 
or,  perhaps  more  accurately,  alloys,  some  of  which 
were  hard,  while  others  would  bend  easily  and  as- 
sume almost  any  form  which  their  possessor  might 
desire  at  the  moment. 

Of  course  every  one  knew  that  their  commercial 
value  was  nil,  but  all  those  who  wished  to  be  con- 
sidered respectable  thought  it  incumbent  upon  them 

154 


The  Musical  Banks 

to  retain  a  few  coins  in  their  possession,  and  to 
let  them  be  seen  from  time  to  time  in  their  hands 
and  purses.  Not  only  this,  but  they  would  stick  to 
it  that  the  current  coin  of  the  realm  was  dross  in 
comparison  with  the  Musical  Bank  coinage.  Per- 
haps, however,  the  strangest  thing  of  all  was  that 
these  very  people  would  at  times  make  fun  in  small 
ways  of  the  whole  system ;  indeed,  there  was  hardly 
any  insinuation  against  it  which  they  would  not 
tolerate  and  even  applaud  in  their  daily  newspa- 
pers if  written  anonymously,  while  if  the  same 
thing  were  said  without  ambiguity  to  their  faces — 
nominative  case  verb  and  accusative  being  all  in 
their  right  places,  and  doubt  impossible — they  would 
consider  themselves  very  seriously  and  justly  out- 
raged, and  accuse  the  speaker  of  being  unwell. 

I  never  could  understand  (neither  can  I  quite  do 
so  now,  though  I  begin  to  see  better  what  they 
mean)  why  a  single  currency  should  not  suffice 
them;  it  would  seem  to  me  as  though  all  their 
dealings  would  have  been  thus  greatly  simplified; 
but  I  was  met  with  a  look  of  horror  if  ever  I  dared 
to  hint  at  it.  Even  those  who  to  my  certain  knowl- 
edge kept  only  just  enough  money  at  the  Musical 
Banks  to  swear  by,  would  call  the  other  banks 
(where  their  securities  really  lay)  cold,  deadening, 
paralyzing,  and  the  like. 

I  noticed  another  thing,  moreover,  which  struck 
me  greatly.  I  was  taken  to  the  opening  of  one  of 
these  banks  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  saw  a  large 
assemblage  of  cashiers  and  managers.     I  sat  oppo- 

*55 


Erewhon 


site  them  and  scanned  their  faces  attentively.  They 
did  not  please  me;  they  lacked,  with  few  excep- 
tions, the  true  Erewhonian  frankness ;  and  an  equal 
number  from  any  other  class  would  have  looked 
happier  and  better  men.  When  I  met  them  in  the 
streets  they  did  not  seem  like  other  people,  but  had, 
as  a  general  rule,  a  cramped  expression  upon  their 
faces  which  pained  and  depressed  me. 

Those  who  came  from  the  country  were  better; 
they  seemed  to  have  lived  less  as  a  separate  class, 
and  to  be  freer  and  healthier;  but  in  spite  of  my 
seeing  not  a  few  whose  looks  were  benign  and 
noble,  I  could  not  help  asking  myself  concerning 
the  greater  number  of  those  whom  I  met,  whether 
Erewhon  would  be  a  better  country  if  their  expres- 
sion were  to  be  transferred  to  the  people  in  general. 
I  answered  myself  emphatically,  no.  The  expres- 
sion on  the  faces  of  the  high  Ydgrunites  was  that 
which  one  would  wish  to  diffuse,  and  not  that  of 
the  cashiers. 

A  man's  expression  is  his  sacrament;  it  is  the 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  his  inward  and  spiritual 
grace,  or  want  of  grace;  and  as  I  looked  at  the 
majority  of  these  men,  I  could  not  help  feeling  that 
there  must  be  a  something  in  their  lives  which  had 
stunted  their  natural  development,  and  that  they 
would  have  been  more  healthily  minded  in  any 
other  profession.  I  was  always  sorry  for  them,  for 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they  were  well-meaning 
persons;  they  were  in  the  main  very  poorly  paid; 
their  constitutions  were  as  a  rule  above  suspicion; 

156 


The  Musical  Banks 

and  there  were  recorded  numberless  instances  of 
their  self-sacrifice  and  generosity;  but  they  had  had 
the  misfortune  to  have  been  betrayed  into  a  false 
position  at  an  age  for  the  most  part  when  their 
judgment  was  not  matured,  and  after  having  been 
kept  in  studied  ignorance  of  the  real  difficulties  of 
the  system.  But  this  did  not  make  their  position 
the  less  a  false  one,  and  its  bad  effects  upon  them- 
selves were  unmistakable. 

Few  people  would  speak  quite  openly  and  freely 
before  them,  which  struck  me  as  a  very  bad  sign. 
When  they  were  in  the  room  every  one  would  talk 
as  though  all  currency  save  that  of  the  Musical 
Banks  should  be  abolished ;  and  yet  they  knew  per- 
fectly well  that  even  the  cashiers  themselves  hardly 
used  the  Musical  Bank  money  more  than  othef 
people.  It  was  expected  of  them  that  they  should 
appear  to  do  so,  but  this  was  all.  The  less  thought- 
ful of  them  did  not  seem  particularly -unhappy,  but 
many  were  plainly  sick  at  heart,  though  perhaps 
they  hardly  knew  it,  and  would  not  have  owned  to 
being  so.  Some  few  were  opponents  of  the  whole 
system;  but  these  were  liable  to  be  dismissed  from 
their  employment  at  any  moment,  and  this  rendered 
them  very  careful,  for  a  man  who  had  once  been 
cashier  at  a  Musical  Bank  was  out  of  the  field  for 
other  employment,  and  was  generally  unfitted  for 
it  by  reason  of  that  course  of  treatment  which 
was  commonly  called  his  education.  In  fact  it  was 
a  career  from  which  retreat  was  virtually  impos- 
sible, and  into  which  young  men  were  generally  in- 

157 


Erewhon 


duced  to  enter  before  they  could  be  reasonably  ex- 
pected, considering  their  training,  to  have  formed 
any  opinions  of  their  own.  Not  unfrequently,  in- 
deed, they  were  induced,  by  what  we  in  England 
should  call  undue  influence,  concealment,  and  fraud. 
Few  indeed  were  those  who  had  the  courage  to  in- 
sist on  seeing  both  sides  of  the  question  before  they 
committed  themselves  to  what  was  practically  a 
leap  in  the  dark.  One  would  have  thought  that  cau- 
tion in  this  respect  was  an  elementary  principle, — 
one  of  the  first  things  that  an  honorable  man  would 
teach  his  boy  to  understand ;  but  in  practice  it  was 
not  so. 

I  even  saw  cases  in  which  parents  bought  the 
right  of  presenting  to  the  office  of  cashier  at  one 
of  these  banks,  with  the  fixed  determination  that 
some  one  of  their  sons  (perhaps  a  mere  child) 
should  fill  it.  There  was  the  lad  himself — growing 
up  with  every  promise  of  becoming  a  good  and  hon- 
orable man — but  utterly  without  warning  concern- 
ing the  iron  shoe  which  his  natural  protector  was 
providing  for  him.  Who  could  say  that  the  whole 
thing  would  not  end  in  a  life-long  lie,  and  vain 
chafing  to  escape?  I  confess  that  there  were  few 
things  in  Erewhon  which  shocked  me  more  than 
this. 

Yet  we  do  something  not  so  very  different  from 
this  even  in  England,  and  as  regards  the  dual  com- 
mercial system,  all  countries  have,  and  have  had,  a 
law  of  the  land,  and  also  another  law,  which, 
though  professedly  more  sacred,  has  far  less  effect 

158 


The  Musical  Banks 

on  their  daily  life  and  actions.  It  seems  as  though 
the  need  for  some  law  over  and  above,  and  some- 
times even  conflicting  with,  the  law  of  the  land, 
must  spring  from  something  that  lies  deep  down 
in  man's  nature;  indeed,  it  is  hard  to  think  that 
man  could  ever  have  become  man  at  all,  but  for 
the  gradual  evolution  of  a  perception  that  though 
this  world  looms  so  large  when  we  are  in  it,  it 
may  seem  a  little  thing  when  we  have  got  away 
from  it. 

When  man  had  grown  to  the  perception  that  in 
the  everlasting  Is-and-Is-Not  of  nature,  the  world 
and  all  that  it  contains,  including  man,  is  at  the 
same  time  both  seen  and  unseen,  he  felt  the  need 
of  two  rules  of  life,  one  for  the  seen,  and  the  other 
for  the  unseen  side  of  things.  For  the  laws  affect- 
ing the  seen  world  he  claimed  the  sanction  of  seen 
powers;  for  the  unseen  (of  which  he  knows  nothing 
save  that  it  exists  and  is  powerful)  he  appealed  to 
the  unseen  power  (of  which,  again,  he  knows  noth- 
ing save  that  it  exists  and  is  powerful)  to  which  he 
gives  the  name  of  God. 

Some  Erewhonian  opinions  concerning  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  unborn  embryo,  that  I  regret  my  space 
will  not  permit  me  to  lay  before  the  reader,  have 
led  me  to  conclude  that  the  Erewhonian  Musical 
Banks,  and  perhaps  the  religious  systems  of  all  coun- 
tries, are  now  more  or  less  of  an  attempt  to  uphold 
the  unfathomable  and  unconscious  instinctive  wis- 
dom of  millions  of  past  generations,  against  the 
comparatively  shallow,  consciously  reasoning,  and 

159 


Erewhon 


ephemeral  conclusions  drawn  from  that  of  the  last 
thirty  or  forty. 

The  saving  feature  of  the  Erewhonian  Musical 
Bank  system  (as  distinct  from  the  quasi-idolatrous 
views  which  coexist  with  it,  and  on  which  I  will 
touch  later)  was  that  while  it  bore  witness  to  the 
existence  of  a  kingdom  that  is  not  of  this  world,  it 
made  no  attempt  to  pierce  the  veil  that  hides  it  from 
human  eyes.  It  is  here  that  almost  all  religions 
go  wrong.  Their  priests  try  to  make  us  believe 
that  they  know  more  about  the  unseen  world  than 
those  whose  eyes  are  still  blinded  by  the  seen,  can 
ever  know — forgetting  that  while  to  deny  the  ex- 
istence of  an  unseen  kingdom  is  bad,  to  pretend 
that  we  know  more  about  it  than  its  bare  existence 
is  no  better. 

This  chapter  is  already  longer  than  I  intended, 
but  I  should  like  to  say  that  in  spite  of  the  saving 
feature  of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  the  Erewhonians  are  on  the  eve  of 
some  great  change  in  their  religious  opinions,  or 
at  any  rate  in  that  part  of  them  which  finds  ex- 
pression through  their  Musical  Banks.  So  far  as  I 
could  see,  fully  ninety  per  cent,  of  the  population 
of  the  metropolis  looked  upon  these  banks  with 
something  not  far  removed  from  contempt.  If  this 
is  so,  any  such  startling  event  as  is  sure  to  arise 
sooner  or  later,  may  serve  as  nucleus  to  a  new 
order  of  things  that  will  be  more  in  harmony  with 
both  the  heads  and  hearts  of  the  people. 


160 


CHAPTER     XVI 

AROWHENA 

The  reader  will  perhaps  have  learned  by  this  time 
a  thing  which  I  had  myself  suspected  before  I  had 
been  twenty-four  hours  in  Mr.  Nosnibor's  house — > 
I  mean,  that  though  the  Nosnibors  showed  me  every 
attention,  I  could  not  cordially  like  them,  with  the 
exception  of  Arowhena  who  was  quite  different 
from  the  rest.  They  were  not  fair  samples  of  Ere- 
whonians.  I  saw  many  families  with  whom  they 
were  on  visiting  terms,  whose  manners  charmed 
me  more  than  I  know  how  to  say,  but  I  never  could 
get  over  my  original  prejudice  against  Mr.  Nosni- 
bor  for  having  embezzled  the  money.  Mrs.  Nosni- 
bor,  too,  was  a  very  worldly  woman,  yet  to  hear 
her  talk  one  would  have  thought  that  she  was  sin- 
gularly the  reverse ;  neither  could  I  endure  Zulora ; 
Arowhena  however  was  perfection. 

She  it  was  who  ran  all  the  little  errands  for  her 
mother  and  Mr.  Nosnibor  and  Zulora,  and  gave 
those  thousand  proofs  of  sweetness  and  unselfish- 
ness which  some  one  member  of  a  family  is  gen- 
erally required  to  give.  All  day  long  it  was  Aro- 
whena this,  and  Arowhena  that;  but  she  never 
seemed  to  know  that  she  was  being  put  upon,  and 
was  always  bright  and  willing  from  morning  till 

161 


Erewhon 


evening.  Zulora  certainly  was  very  handsome,  but 
Arowhena  was  infinitely  the  more  graceful  of  the 
two  and  was  the  very  ne  plus  ultra  of  youth  and 
beauty.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  her,  for  any- 
thing that  I  could  say  would  fall  so  far  short  of  the 
reality  as  only  to  mislead  the  reader.  Let  him 
think  of  the  very  loveliest  that  he  can  imagine,  and 
he  will  still  be  below  the  truth.  Having  said  this 
much,  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  had  fallen  in  love 
with  her. 

She  must  have  seen  what  I  felt  for  her,  but  I  tried 
my  hardest  not  to  let  it  appear  even  by  the  slight- 
est sign.  I  had  many  reasons  for  this.  I  had  no 
idea  what  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nosnibor  would  say  to 
it;  and  I  knew  that  Arowhena  would  not  look  at 
me  (at  any  rate  not  yet)  if  her  father  and  mother 
disapproved,  which  they  probably  would,  consider- 
ing that  I  had  nothing  except  the  pension  of  about 
a  pound  a  day  of  our  money  which  the  King  had 
granted  me.  I  did  not  yet  know  of  a  more  serious 
obstacle. 

In  the  meantime,  I  may  say  that  I  had  been  pre- 
sented at  court,  and  was  told  that  my  reception  had 
been  considered  as  singularly  gracious;  indeed,  I 
had  several  interviews  both  with  the  King  and 
Queen,  at  which  from  time  to  time  the  Queen  got 
everything  from  me  that  I  had  in  the  world,  clothes 
and  all,  except  the  two  buttons  I  had  given  to 
Yram,  the  loss  of  which  seemed  to  annoy  her  a 
good  deal.  I  was  presented  with  a  court  suit,  and 
her  Majesty  had  my  old  clothes  put  upon  a  wooden 

162 


Arowhena 


dummy,  on  which  they  probably  remain,  unless  they 
have  been  removed  in  consequence  of  my  subse- 
quent downfall.  His  Majesty's  manners  were  those 
of  a  cultivated  English  gentleman.  He  was  much 
pleased  at  hearing  that  our  government  was  mon- 
archical, and  that  the  mass  of  the  people  were  reso- 
lute that  it  should  not  be  changed ;  indeed,  I  was 
so  much  encouraged  by  the  evident  pleasure  with 
which  he  heard  me,  that  I  ventured  to  quote  to  him 
those  beautiful  lines  of  Shakespeare's — 

"There's   a   divinity   doth   hedge   a  king, 
Rough  hew  him  how  we  may ;" 

but  I  was  sorry  I  had  done  so  afterwards,  for  I  do 
not  think  his  Majesty  admired  the  lines  as  much 
as  I  could  have  wished. 

There  is  no  occasion  for  me  to  dwell  further  upon 
my  experience  of  the  court,  but  I  ought  perhaps 
to  allude  to  one  of  my  conversations  with  the  King, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  pregnant  with  the  most  im- 
portant consequences. 

He  had  been  asking  me  about  my  watch,  and 
inquiring  whether  such  dangerous  inventions  were 
tolerated  in  the  country  from  which  I  came.  I 
owned  with  some  confusion  that  watches  were  not 
uncommon;  but  observing  the  gravity  which  came 
over  his  Majesty's  face  I  presumed  to  say  that  they 
were  fast  dying  out,  and  that  we  had  few  if  any 
other  mechanical  contrivances  of  which  he  was 
likely  to  disapprove.  Upon  his  asking  me  to  name 
some  of  our  most  advanced  machines,  I  did  not 

163 


Erewhon 


dare  to  tell  him  of  our  steam-engines  and  railroads 
and  electric  telegraphs,  and  was  puzzling  my  brains 
to  think  what  I  could  say,  when,  of  all  things  in  the 
world,  balloons  suggested  themselves,  and  I  gave 
him  an  account  of  a  very  remarkable  ascent  which 
was  made  some  years  ago.  The  King  was  too 
polite  to  contradict,  but  I  felt  sure  that  he  did 
not  believe  me,  and  from  that  day  forward  though 
he  always  showed  me  the  attention  which  was  due 
to  my  genius  ( for  in  this  light  was  my  complexion 
regarded),  he  never  questioned  me  about  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  my  country. 

To  return,  however,  to  Arowhena.  I  soon  gath- 
ered that  neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Nosnibor  would 
have  any  objection  to  my  marrying  into  the  fam- 
ily; a  physical  excellence  is  considered  in  Erewhon 
as  a  set  off  against  almost  any  other  disqualification, 
and  my  light  hair  was  sufficient  to  make  me  an 
eligible  match.  But  along  with  this  welcome  fact 
I  gathered  another  which  filled  me  with  dismay:  I 
was  expected  to  marry  Zulora,  for  whom  I  had  al- 
ready conceived  a  great  aversion. 

At  first  I  hardly  noticed  the  little  hints  and  the 
artifices  which  were  resorted  to  in  order  to  bring 
us  together,  but  after  a  time  they  became  too 
plain.  Zulora,  whether  she  was  in  love  with  me 
or  not,  was  bent  on  marrying  me,  and  I  gathered 
in  talking  with  a  young  gentleman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance who  frequently  visited  the  house  and  whom 
I  greatly  disliked,  that  it  was  considered  a  sacred 
and  inviolable  rule  that  whoever  married  into  a  f am- 

164 


Arowhena 


ily  must  marry  the  eldest  daughter  at  that  time 
unmarried.  The  young  gentleman  urged  this  upon 
me  so  frequently  that  I  at  last  saw  he  was  in  love 
with  Arowhena  himself,  and  wanted  me  to  get  Zu- 
lora  out  of  the  way;  but  others  told  me  the  same 
story  as  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  I  saw 
there  was  a  serious  difficulty.  My  only  comfort 
was  that  Arowhena  snubbed  my  rival  and  would 
not  look  at  him.  Neither  would  she  look  at  me; 
nevertheless  there  was  a  difference  in  the  manner 
of  her  disregard ;  this  was  all  I  could  get  from  her. 
Not  that  she  avoided  me;  on  the  contrary  I  had 
many  a  tete-a-tete  with  her,  for  her  mother  and 
sister  were  anxious  for  me  to  deposit  some  part 
of  my  pension  in  the  Musical  Banks,  this  being  in 
accordance  with  the  dictates  of  their  goddess 
Ydgrun,  of  whom  both  Mrs.  Nosnibor  and  Zulora 
were  great  devotees.  I  was  not  sure  whether  I 
had  kept  my  secret  from  being  perceived  by  Aro- 
whena herself,  but  none  of  the  others  suspected  me, 
so  she  was  set  upon  me  to  get  me  to  open  an  account, 
at  any  rate  pro  forma,  with  the  Musical  Banks ;  and 
I  need  hardly  say  that  she  succeeded.  But  I  did 
not  yield  at  once;  I  enjoyed  the  process  of  being 
argued  with  too  keenly  to  lose  it  by  a  prompt  con- 
cession ;  besides,  a  little  hesitation  rendered  the  con- 
cession itself  more  valuable.  It  was  in  the  course 
of  conversations  on  this  subject  that  I  learned  the 
more  defined  religious  opinions  of  the  Erewhonians, 
that  coexist  with  the  Musical  Bank  system,  but  are 
not   recognized   by   those  curious   institutions.      I 

165 


Erewhon 


will  describe  them  as  briefly  as  possible  in  the  fol- 
lowing chapters  before  I  return  to  the  personal  ad- 
ventures of  Arowhena  and  myself. 

They  were  idolaters,  though  of  a  comparatively 
enlightened  kind ;  but  here,  as  in  other  things,  there 
was  a  discrepancy  between  their  professed  and  ac- 
tual belief,  for  they  had  a  genuine  and  potent  faith 
which  existed  without  recognition  alongside  of  their 
idol  worship. 

The  gods  whom  they  worship  openly  are  per- 
sonifications of  human  qualities,  as  justice,  strength, 
hope,  fear,  love,  &c,  &c.  The  people  think  that 
prototypes  of  these  have  a  real  objective  existence 
in  a  region  far  beyond  the  clouds,  holding,  as  did 
the  ancients,  that  they  are  like  men  and  women 
both  in  body  and  passion,  except  that  they  are 
even  comelier  and  more  powerful,  and  also  that 
they  can  render  themselves  invisible  to  human  eye- 
sight. They  are  capable  of  being  propitiated  by 
mankind  and  of  coming  to  the  assistance  of  those 
who  ask  their  aid.  Their  interest  in  human  affairs 
is  keen,  and  on  the  whole  beneficent;  but  they  be- 
come very  angry  if  neglected,  and  punish  rather  the 
first  they  come  upon,  than  the  actual  person  who  has 
offended  them;  their  fury  being  blind  when  it  is 
raised,  though  never  raised  without  reason.  They 
will  not  punish  with  any  less  severity  when  people 
sin  against  them  from  ignorance,  and  without  the 
chance  of  having  had  knowledge;  they  will  take  no 
excuses  of  this  kind,  but  are  even  as  the  English 
law,  which  assumes  itself  to  be  known  to  every  one. 

1 66 


Arowhena 


Thus  they  have  a  law  that  two  pieces  of  matter 
may  not  occupy  the  same  space  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, which  law  is  presided  over  and  administered 
by  the  gods  of  time  and  space  jointly,  so  that  if  a 
flying  stone  and  a  man's  head  attempt  to  outrage 
these  gods,  by  "arrogating  a  right  which  they  do 
not  possess"  (for  so  it  is  written  in  one  of  their 
books),  and  to  occupy  the  same  space  simultane- 
ously, a  severe  punishment,  sometimes  even  death 
itself,  is  sure  to  follow,  without  any  regard  to 
whether  the  stone  knew  that  the  man's  head  was 
there,  or  the  head  the  stone;  this  at  least  is  their 
view  of  the  common  accidents  of  life.  Moreover, 
they  hold  their  deities  to  be  quite  regardless  of  mo- 
tives. With  them  it  is  the  thing  done  which  is  every- 
thing, and  the  motive  goes  for  nothing. 

Thus  they  hold  it  strictly  forbidden  for  a  man 
to  go  without  common  air  in  his  lungs  for  more 
than  a  very  few  minutes;  and  if  by  any  chance 
he  gets  into  the  water,  the  air-god  is  very  angry, 
and  will  not  suffer  it;  no  matter  whether  the  man 
got  into  the  water  by  accident  or  on  purpose, 
whether  through  the  attempt  to  save  a  child  or 
through  presumptuous  contempt  of  the  air-god,  the 
air-god  will  kill  him,  unless  he  keeps  his  head  high 
enough  out  of  the  water,  and  thus  gives  the  air-god 
his  due. 

This  with  regard  to  the  deities  who  manage  physi- 
cal affairs.  Over  and  above  these  they  personify 
hope,  fear,  love,  and  so  forth,  giving  them  temples 
and  priests,  and  carving  likenesses  of  them  in  stone, 

167 


Erewhon 


which  they  verily  believe  to  be  faithful  representa- 
tions of  living  beings  who  are  only  not  human  in 
being  more  than  human.  If  any  one  denies  the 
objective  existence  of  these  divinities,  and  says  that 
there  is  really  no  such  being  as  a  beautiful  woman 
called  Justice,  with  her  eyes  blinded  and  a  pair  of 
scales,  positively  living  and  moving  in  a  remote  and 
ethereal  region,  but  that  justice  is  only  the  per- 
sonified expression  of  certain  modes  of  human 
thought  and  action — they  say  that  he  denies  the 
existence  of  justice  in  denying  her  personality,  and 
that  he  is  a  wanton  disturber  of  men's  religious  con- 
victions. They  detest  nothing  so  much  as  any  at- 
tempt to  lead  them  to  higher  spiritual  conceptions 
of  the  deities  whom  they  profess  to  worship.  Aro- 
whena  and  I  had  a  pitched  battle  on  this  point,  and 
should  have  had  many  more  but  for  my  prudence 
in  allowing  her  to  get  the  better  of  me. 

I  am  sure  that  in  her  heart  she  was  suspicious 
of  her  own  position  for  she  returned  more  than 
once  to  the  subject.  "Can  you  not  see,"  I  had  ex- 
claimed, "that  the  fact  of  justice  being  admirable 
will  not  be  affected  by  the  absence  of  a  belief  in 
her  being  also  a  living  agent?  Can  you  really 
think  that  men  will  be  one  whit  less  hopeful,  be- 
cause they  no  longer  believe  that  hope  is  an  actual 
person?"  She  shook  her  head,  and  said  that  with 
men's  belief  in  the  personality  all  incentive  to  the 
reverence  of  the  thing  itself,  as  justice  or  hope, 
would  cease;  men  from  that  hour  would  never  be 
either  just  or  hopeful  again. 

168 


Arowhena 


I  could  not  move  her,  nor,  indeed,  did  I  seriously 
wish  to  do  so.  She  deferred  to  me  in  most  things, 
but  she  never  shrank  from  maintaining  her  opin- 
ions if  they  were  put  in  question;  nor  does  she  to 
this  day  abate  one  jot  of  her  belief  in  the  religion 
of  her  childhood,  though  in  compliance  with  my 
repeated  entreaties  she  has  allowed  herself  to  be 
baptized  into  the  English  Church.  She  has,  how- 
ever, made  a  gloss  upon  her  original  faith  to  the 
effect  that  her  baby  and  I  are  the  only  human 
beings  exempt  from  the  vengeance  of  the  deities 
for  not  believing  in  their  personality.  She  is  quite 
clear  that  we  are  exempted.  She  should  never  have 
so  strong  a  conviction  of  it  otherwise.  How  it  has 
come  about  she  does  not  know,  neither  does  she  wish 
to  know;  there  are  things  which  it  is  better  not 
to  know  and  this  is  one  of  them;  but  when  I  tell 
her  that  I  believe  in  her  deities  as  much  as  she  does 
— and  that  it  is  a  difference  about  words,  not  things, 
she  becomes  silent  with  a  slight  emphasis. 

I  own  that  she  very  nearly  conquered  me  once; 
for  she  asked  me  what  I  should  think  if  she  were  to 
tell  me  that  my  God,  whose  nature  and  attributes  I 
had  been  explaining  to  her,  was  but  the  expression 
for  man's  highest  conception  of  goodness,  wisdom, 
and  power;  that  in  order  to  generate  a  more  vivid 
conception  of  so  great  and  glorious  a  thought,  man 
had  personified  it  and  called  it  by  a  name;  that  it 
was  an  unworthy  conception  of  the  Deity  to  hold 
Him  personal,  inasmuch  as  escape  from  human 
contingencies  became  thus  impossible;  that  the  real 

169 


Erewhon 


thing  men  should  worship  was  the  Divine,  wherein- 
soever they  could  find  it;  that  "God"  was  but  man's 
way  of  expressing  his  sense  of  the  Divine;  that  as 
justice,  hope,  wisdom,  &c,  were  all  parts  of  good- 
ness, so  God  was  the  expression  which  embraced 
all  goodness  and  all  good  power ;  that  people  would 
no  more  cease  to  love  God  on  ceasing  to  believe  in 
His  objective  personality,  than  they  had  ceased  to 
love  justice  on  discovering  that  she  was  not  really 
personal;  nay,  that  they  would  never  truly  love 
Him  till  they  saw  Him  thus. 

She  said  all  this  in  her  artless  way,  and  with 
none  of  the  coherence  with  which  I  have  here  writ- 
ten it;  her  face  kindled,  and  she  felt  sure  that  she 
had  convinced  me  that  I  was  wrong,  and  that  justice 
was  a  living  person.  Indeed  I  did  wince  a  little; 
but  I  recovered  myself  immediately,  and  pointed  out 
to  her  that  we  had  books  whose  genuineness  was 
beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt,  as  they  were  cer- 
tainly none  of  them  less  than  1800  years  old;  that 
in  these  there  were  the  most  authentic  accounts  of 
men  who  had  been  spoken  to  by  the  Deity  Himself, 
and  of  one  prophet  who  had  been  allowed  to  see  the 
back  parts  of  God  through  the  hand  that  was  laid 
over  his  face. 

This  was  conclusive;  and  I  spoke  with  such  sol- 
emnity that  she  was  a  little  frightened,  and  only 
answered  that  they  too  had  their  books,  in  which 
their  ancestors  had  seen  the  gods;  on  which  I  saw 
that  further  argument  was  not  at  all  likely  to  con- 
vince her ;  and  fearing  that  she  might  tell  her  mother 

170 


Arowhena 


wh&t  I  had  been  saying,  and  that  I  might  lose  the 
M  upon  her  affections  which  I  was  beginning  to 
feel  pretty  sure  that  I  was  obtaining,  I  began  to  let 
her  have  her  own  way,  and  to  convince  me ;  neither 
till  after  we  were  safely  married  did  I  show  the 
cloven  hoof  again. 

Nevertheless,  her  remarks  have  haunted  me,  and 
I  have  since  met  with  many  very  godly  people  who 
have  had  a  great  knowledge  of  divinity,  but  no  sense 
of  the  divine  :  and  again,  I  have  seen  a  radiance  upon 
the  face  of  those  who  were  worshiping  the  divine 
either  in  art  or  nature — in  picture  or  statue — in 
field  or  cloud  or  sea — in  man,  woman,  or  child — 
which  I  have  never  seen  kindled  by  any  talking  about 
the  nature  and  attributes  of  God.  Mention  but  the 
word  divinity,  and  our  sense  of  the  divine  is  clouded. 


i7t 


CHAPTER    XVII 

YDGRUN   AND  THE   YDGRUNITES 

In  spite  of  all  the  to-do  they  make  about  their  idols, 
and  the  temples  they  build,  and  the  priests  and  priest- 
esses whom  they  support,  I  could  never  think  that 
their  professed  religion  was  more  than  skin-deep; 
but  they  had  another  which  they  carried  with  them 
into  all  their  actions;  and  although  no  one  from 
the  outside  of  things  would  suspect  it  to  have  any 
existence  at  all,  it  was  in  reality  their  great  guide, 
the  mariner's  compass  of  their  lives;  so  that  there 
were  very  few  things  which  they  ever  either  did, 
or  refrained  from  doing,  without  reference  to  its 
precepts. 

Now  I  suspected  that  their  professed  faith  had 
no  great  hold  upon  them — firstly,  because  I  often 
heard  the  priests  complain  of  the  prevailing  indif- 
ference, and  they  would  hardly  have  done  so  with- 
out reason;  secondly,  because  of  the  show  which 
was  made,  for  there  was  none  of  this  about  the 
worship  of  the  goddess  Ydgrun,  in  whom  they  really 
did  believe ;  thirdly,  because  though  the  priests  were 
constantly  abusing  Ydgrun  as  being  the  great  en- 
emy of  the  gods,  it  was  well  known  that  she  had 
no  more  devoted  worshipers  in  the  whole  country 
than  these  very  persons,  who  were  often  priests  of 

172 


Ydgrun  and  Ydgrunites 

Ydgrun  rather  than  of  their  own  deities.  Neither 
am  I  by  any  means  sure  that  these  were  not  the 
best  of  the  priests. 

Ydgrun  certainly  occupied  a  very  anomalous  po- 
sition ;  she  was  held  to  be  both  omnipresent  and  om- 
nipotent, but  she  was  not  an  elevated  conception, 
and  was  sometimes  both  cruel  and  absurd.  Even 
her  most  devoted  worshipers  were  a  little  ashamed 
of  her,  and  served  her  more  with  heart  and  in 
deed  than  with  their  tongues.  Theirs  was  no  lip 
service ;  on  the  contrary,  even  when  worshiping  her 
most  devoutly,  they  would  often  deny  her.  Take 
her  all  in  all,  however,  she  was  a  beneficent  and  use- 
ful deity,  who  did  not  care  how  much  she  was  de- 
nied so  long  as  she  was  obeyed  and  feared,  and  who 
kept  hundreds  of  thousands  in  those  paths  which 
make  life  tolerably  happy,  who  would  never  have 
been  kept  there  otherwise,  and  over  whom  a  higher 
and  more  spiritual  ideal  would  have  had  no  power. 

I  greatly  doubt  whether  the  Erewhonians  are  yet 
prepared  for  any  better  religion,  and  though  (con- 
sidering my  gradually  strengthened  conviction  that 
they  were  the  representatives  of  the  lost  tribes  of 
Israel)  I  would  have  set  about  converting  them  at 
all  hazards  had  I  seen  the  remotest  prospect  of 
success,  I  could  hardly  contemplate  the  displace- 
ment of  Ydgrun  as  the  great  central  object  of  their 
regard  without  admitting  that  it  would  be  attended 
with  frightful  consequences;  in  fact  were  I  a  mere 
philosopher,  I  should  say  that  the  gradual  raising 
of  the  popular  conception  of  Ydgrun  would  be  the 

173 


Erewhon 


greatest  spiritual  boon  which  could  be  conferred 
upon  them,  and  that  nothing  could  effect  this  ex- 
cept example.  I  generally  found  that  those  who 
complained  most  loudly  that  Ydgrun  was  not  high 
enough  for  them  had  hardly  as  yet  come  up  to  the 
Ydgrun  standard,  and  I  often  met  with  a  class  of 
men  whom  I  called  to  myself  "high  Ydgrunites', 
(the  rest  being  Ydgrunites,  and  low  Ydgrunites), 
who,  in  the  matter  of  human  conduct  and  the  af- 
fairs of  life,  appeared  to  me  to  have  got  about  as 
far  as  it  is  in  the  right  nature  of  man  to  go. 

They  were  gentlemen  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
word;  and  what  has  one  not  said  in  saying  this? 
They  seldom  spoke  of  Ydgrun,  or  even  alluded  to 
her,  but  would  never  run  counter  to  her  dictates 
without  ample  reason  for  doing  so:  in  such  cases 
they  would  override  her  w7ith  due  self-reliance,  and 
the  goddess  seldom  punished  them;  for  they  are 
brave,  and  Ydgrun  is  not.  They  had  most  of  them 
a  smattering  of  the  hypothetical  language,  and  some 
few  more  than  this,  but  only  a  few.  I  do  not  think 
that  this  language  has  had  much  hand  in  making 
them  what  they  are ;  but  rather  that  the  fact  of  their 
being  generally  possessed  of  its  rudiments  was  one 
great  reason  for  the  reverence  paid  to  the  hypotheti- 
cal language  itself. 

Being  inured  from  youth  to  exercises  and  ath- 
letics of  all  sorts,  and  living  fearlessly  under  the 
eye  of  their  peers,  among  whom  there  exists  a  high 
standard  of  courage,  generosity,  honor,  and  every 
good  and  manly  quality — what  wonder  that  they 

174 


Ydgrun  and  Ydgrunites 

should  have  become,  so  to  speak,  a  law  unto  them- 
selves; and,  while  taking  an  elevated  view  of  the 
goddess  Ydgrun,  they  should  have  gradually  lost 
all  faith  in  the  recognized  deities  of  the  country? 
These  they  do  not  openly  disregard,  for  conformity 
until  absolutely  intolerable  is  a  law  of  Ydgrun,  yet 
they  have  no  real  belief  in  the  objective  existence 
of  beings  which  so  readily  explain  themselves  as  ab- 
stractions, and  whose  personality  demands  a  quasi- 
materialism  which  it  baffles  the  imagination  to 
realize.  They  keep  their  opinions,  however,  greatly 
to  themselves,  inasmuch  as  most  of  their  country- 
men feel  strongly  about  the  gods,  and  they  hold  it 
wrong  to  give  pain,  unless  for  some  greater  good 
than  seems  likely  to  arise  from  their  plain  speaking. 
On  the  other  hand,  surely  those  whose  own  minds 
are  clear  about  any  given  matter  (even  though  it 
be  only  that  there  is  little  certainty)  should  go  so 
far  towards  imparting  that  clearness  to  others,  as  to 
say  openly  what  they  think  and  why  they  think  it, 
whenever  they  can  properly  do  so;  for  they  may 
be  sure  that  they  owe  their  own  clearness  almost 
entirely  to  the  fact  that  others  have  done  this  by 
them :  after  all,  they  may  be  mistaken,  and  if  so,  it 
is  for  their  own  and  the  general  well-being  that 
they  should  let  their  error  be  seen  as  distinctly  as 
possible,  so  that  it  may  be  more  easily  refuted.  I 
own,  therefore,  that  on  this  one  point  I  disapproved 
of  the  practice  even  of  the  highest  Ydgrunites,  and 
objected  to  it  all  the  more  because  I  knew  that  I 
should  find  my  own  future  task  more  easy  if  the 

175 


Erewhon 


high  Ydgrunites  had  already  undermined  the  belief 
which  is  supposed  to  prevail  at  present. 

In  other  respects  they  were  more  like  the  best 
class  of  Englishmen  than  any  whom  I  have  seen 
in  other  countries.  I  should  have  liked  to  have 
persuaded  half-a-dozen  of  them  to  come  over  to 
England  and  go  upon  the  stage,  for  they  had  most 
of  them  a  keen  sense  of  humor  and  a  taste  for  act- 
ing: they  would  be  of  great  use  to  us.  The  ex- 
ample of  a  real  gentleman  is,  if  I  may  say  so  with- 
out profanity,  the  best  of  all  gospels;  such  a  man 
upon  the  stage  becomes  a  potent  humanizing  in- 
fluence, an  Ideal  which  all  may  look  upon  for  a 
shilling. 

I  always  liked  and  admired  these  men,  and  al- 
though I  could  not  help  deeply  regretting  their  cer- 
tain ultimate  perdition  (for  they  had  no  sense  of  a 
hereafter,  and  their  only  religion  was  that  of  self-^ 
respect  and  consideration  for  other  people),  I  never 
dared  to  take  so  great  a  liberty  with  them  as  to 
attempt  to  put  them  in  possession  of  my  own  re- 
ligious convictions,  in  spite  of  my  knowing  that 
they  were  the  only  ones  which  could  make  them 
really  good  and  happy,  either  here  or  hereafter.  I 
did  try  sometimes,  being  impelled  to  do  so  by  a 
strong  sense  of  duty,  and  by  my  deep  regret  that 
so  much  that  was  admirable  should  be  doomed  to 
ages  if  not  eternity  of  torture;  but  the  words  stuck 
in  my  throat  as  soon  as  I  began. 

Whether  a  professional  missionary  might  have  a 
better  chance  I  know  not ;  such  persons  must  doubt- 

176 


Ydgrun  and  Ydgrunites 

less  know  more  about  the  science  of  conversion:  for 
myself,  I  could  only  be  thankful  that  I  was  in  the 
right  path,  and  was  obliged  to  let  others  take  their 
chance  as  yet.  If  the  plan  fails  by  which  I  propose 
to  convert  them  myself,  I  would  gladly  contribute 
my  mite  towards  the  sending  two  or  three  trained 
missionaries,  who  have  been  known  as  successful 
converters  of  Jews  and'  Mahometans ;  but  such  have 
seldom  much  to  glory  in  the  flesh,  and  when  I  think 
of  the  high  Ydgrunites,  and  of  the  figure  which  a 
missionary  would  probably  cut  among  them,  I  can- 
not feel  sanguine  that  much  good  would  be  arrived 
at.  Still  the  attempt  is  worth  making,  and  the  worst 
danger  to  the  missionaries  themselves  would  be  that 
of  being  sent  to  the  hospital  where  Chowbok  would 
have  been  sent  had  he  come  with  me  into  Erewhom 

Taking  then  their  religious  opinions  as  a  whole,  I 
must  own  that  the  Erewhonians  are  superstitious, 
on  account  of  the  views  which  they  hold  of  their 
professed  gods,  and  their  entirely  anomalous  and 
inexplicable  worship  of  Ydgrun,  a  worship  at  once 
the  most  powerful,  yet  most  devoid  of  formalism, 
that  I  ever  met  with ;  but  in  practice  things  worked 
better  than  might  have  been  expected,  and  the  con- 
flicting claims  of  Ydgrun  and  the  gods  were  ar- 
ranged by  unwritten  compromises  (for  the  most 
part  in  Ydgrun's  favor),  which  in  ninety-nine  cases 
out  of  a  hundred  were  very  well  understood. 

I  could  not  conceive  why  they  should  not  openly 
acknowledge  high  Ydgrunism,  and  discard  the  ob- 
jective personality  of  hope,  justice,  &c. ;  but  when- 

177 


Erewhon 


ever  I  so  much  as  hinted  at  this,  I  found  that  I  was 
on  dangerous  ground.  They  would  never  have  it; 
returning  constantly  to  the  assertion  that  ages  ago 
the  divinities  were  frequently  seen,  and  that  the 
moment  their  personality  was  disbelieved  in,  men 
would  leave  off  practicing  even  those  ordinary  vir- 
tues which  the  common  experience  of  mankind  has 
agreed  on  as  being  the  greatest  secret  of  happiness. 
"Who  ever  heard,"  they  asked,  indignantly,  "of  such 
things  as  kindly  training,  a  good  example,  and  an 
enlightened  regard  to  one's  own  welfare,  being  able 
to  keep  men  straight?"  In  my  hurry,  forgetting 
things  which  I  ought  to  have  remembered,  I  an- 
swered that  if  a  person  could  not  be  kept  straight 
by  these  things,  there  was  nothing  that  could 
straighten  him,  and  that  if  he  were  not  ruled  by 
the  love  and  fear  of  men  whom  he  had  seen,  neither 
would  he  be  so  by  that  of  the  gods  whom  he  had 
not  seen. 

At  one  time  indeed  I  came  upon  a  small  but  grow- 
ing sect  who  believed,  after  a  fashion,  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul  and  the  resurrection  from  the 
dead;  they  taught  that  those  who  had  been  born 
with  feeble  and  diseased  bodies  and  had  passed  their 
lives  in  ailing,  would  be  tortured  eternally  here- 
after; but  that  those  who  had  been  born  strong  and 
healthy  and  handsome  would  be  rewarded  for  ever 
and  ever.  Of  moral  qualities  or  conduct  they  made 
no  mention. 

Bad  as  this  was,  it  was  a  step  in  advance,  inas- 
much as  they  did  hold  out  a  future  state  of  some 

i78 


Ydgrun  and  Ydgrunites 

sort,  and  I  was  shocked  to  find  that  for  the  most 
part  they  met  with  opposition,  on  the  score  that 
their  doctrine  was  based  upon  no  sort  of  foundation, 
also  that  it  was  immoral  in  its  tendency,  and  not  to 
be  desired  by  any  reasonable  beings. 

When  I  asked  how  it  could  be  immoral,  I  was 
answered  that,  if  firmly  held,  it  would  lead  people 
to  cheapen  this  present  life,  making  it  appear  to  be 
an  affair  of  only  secondary  importance;  that  it  would 
thus  distract  men's  minds  from  the  perfecting  of 
this  world's  economy,  and  was  an  impatient  cut- 
ting, so  to  speak,  of  the  Gordian  knot  of  life's  prob- 
lems, whereby  some  people  might  gain  present  satis- 
faction to  themselves  at  the  cost  of  infinite  damage 
to  others;  that  the  doctrine  tended  to  encourage  the 
poor  in  their  improvidence,  and  in  a  debasing  ac- 
quiescence in  ills  which  they  might  well  remedy; 
that  the  rewards  were  illusory  and  the  result,  after 
all,  of  luck,  whose  empire  should  be  bounded  by 
the  grave;  that  its  terrors  were  enervating  and  un- 
just ;  and  that  even  the  most  blessed  rising  would  be 
but  the  disturbing  of  a  still  more  blessed  slumber. 

To  all  which  I  could  only  say  that  the  thing  had 
been  actually  known  to  happen,  and  that  there  were 
several  well-authenticated  instances  of  people  having 
died  and  come  to  life  again — instances  which  no 
man  in  his  senses  could  doubt. 

"If  this  be  so,"  said  my  opponent,  "we  must  bear 
it  as  best  we  may." 

I  then  translated  for  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  the 
noble  speech  of  Hamlet  in  which  he  says  that  it  i& 

179 


Erewhon 


the  fear  lest  worse  evils  may  befall  us  after  death 
which  alone  prevents  us  from  rushing  into  death's 
arms. 

"Nonsense,"  he  answered,  "no  man  was  ever  yet 
stopped  from  cutting  his  throat  by  any  such  fears 
as  your  poet  ascribes  to  him — and  your  poet  prob- 
ably knew  this  perfectly  well.  If  a  man  cuts  his 
throat  he  is  at  bay,  and  thinks  of  nothing  but  es- 
cape, no  matter  whither,  provided  he  can  shuffle 
off  his  present.  No.  Men  are  kept  at  their  posts, 
not  by  the  fear  that  if  they  quit  them  they  may  quit 
a  frying-pan  for  a  fire,  but  by  the  hope  that  if  they 
hold  on,  the  fire  may  burn  less  fiercely.  The  re- 
spect/ to  quote  your  poet,  'that  makes  calamity  of 
so  long  a  life,'  is  the  consideration  that  though 
calamity  may  live  long,  the  sufferer  may  live  longer 
still." 

On  this,  seeing  that  there  was  little  probability  of 
our  coming  to  an  agreement,  I  let  the  argument 
drop,  and  my  opponent  presently  left  me  with  as 
much  disapprobation  as  he  could  show  without  being 
overtly  rude. 


1 80 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

BIRTH    FORMULA 

I  heard  what  follows  not  from  Arowhena,  but 
from  Mr.  Nosnibor  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  who 
occasionally  dined  at  the  house:  they  told  me  that 
the  Erewhonians  believe  in  preexistence ;  and  not 
only  this  (of  which  I  will  write  more  fully  in  the 
next  chapter),  but  they  believe  that  it  is  of  their  own 
free  act  and  deed  in  a  previous  state  that  they  come 
to  be  born  into  this  world  at  all.  They  hold  that 
the  unborn  are  perpetually  plaguing  and  torment- 
ing the  married  of  both  sexes,  fluttering  about  them 
incessantly,  and  giving  them  no  peace  either  of 
mind  or  body,  until  they  have  consented  to  take  them 
under  their  protection.  If  this  were  not  so  (this 
at  least  is  what  they  urge),  it  would  be  a  monstrous 
freedom  for  one  man  to  take  with  another,  to  say 
that  he  should  undergo  the  chances  and  changes  of 
this  mortal  life  without  any  option  in  the  matter. 
No  man  would  have  any  right  to  get  married  at 
all,  inasmuch  as  he  can  never  tell  what  frightful 
misery  his  doing  so  may  entail  forcibly  upon  a  be- 
ing who  cannot  be  unhappy  as  long  as  he  does  not 
exist.  They  feel  this  so  strongly  that  they  are  re- 
solved to  shift  the  blame  on  to  other  shoulders;  and 
have  fashioned  a  long  mythology  as  to  the  world  in 

181 


Erewhon 


which  the  unborn  people  live,  and  what  they  do,  and 
the  arts  and  machinations  to  which  they  have  re- 
course in  order  to  get  themselves  into  our  own 
world.  But  of  this  more  anon :  what  I  would  relate 
here  is  their  manner  of  dealing  with  those  who  do 
come. 

It  is  a  distinguishing  peculiarity  of  the  Erewhon- 
ians  that  when  they  profess  themselves  to  be  quite 
certain  about  any  matter,  and  avow  it  as  a  base  on 
which  they  are  to  build  a  system  of  practice,  they 
seldom  quite  believe  in  it.  If  they  smell  a  rat  about 
the  precincts  of  a  cherished  institution,  they  will  al- 
ways stop  their  noses  to  it  if  they  can. 

This  is  what  most  of  them  did  in  this  matter  of 
the  unborn,  for  I  cannot  (and  never  could)  think 
that  they  seriously  believed  in  their  mythology  con- 
cerning preexistencc :  they  did  and  they  did  not; 
they  did  not  know  themselves  what  they  believed; 
all  they  did  know  was  that  it  was  a  disease  not  to 
believe  as  they  did.  The  only  thing  of  which  they 
were  quite  sure  was  that  it  was  the  pestering  of  the 
unborn  which  caused  them  to  be  brought  into  this 
world,  and  that  they  would  not  have  been  here  if 
they  would  have  only  let  peaceable  people  alone. 

It  would  be  hard  to  disprove  this  position,  and 
they  might  have  a  good  case  if  they  would  only  leave 
it  as  it  stands.  But  this  they  will  not  do ;  they  must 
have  assurance  doubly  sure;  they  must  have  the 
written  word  of  the  child  itself  as  soon  as  it  is  born, 
giving  the  parents  indemnity  from  all  responsibility 
on  the  score  of  its  birth,  and  asserting  its  own  pre- 

182 


Birth  Formulae 


existence.  They  have  therefore  devised  something 
which  they  call  a  birth  formula — a  document  which 
varies  in  words  according  to  the  caution  of  parents, 
but  is  much  the  same  practically  in  all  cases ;  for  it 
has  been  the  business  of  the  Erewhonian  lawyers 
during  many  ages  to  exercise  their  skill  in  perfecting 
it  and  providing  for  every  contingency. 

These  formulae  are  printed  on  common  paper  at 
a  moderate  cost  for  the  poor ;  but  the  rich  have  them 
written  on  parchment  and  handsomely  bound,  so 
that  the  getting  up  of  a  person's  birth  formula  is  a 
test  of  his  social  position.  They  commence  by  set- 
ting forth,  That  whereas  A.  B.  was  a  member  of  the 
kingdom  of  the  unborn,  where  he  was  well  provided 
for  in  every  way,  and  had  no  cause  of  discontent, 
&c,  &c,  he  did  of  his  own  wanton  depravity  and 
restlessness  conceive  a  desire  to  enter  into  this  pres- 
ent world ;  that  thereon  having  taken  the  necessary 
steps  as  set  forth  in  laws  of  the  unborn  kingdom, 
he  did  with  malice  aforethought  set  himself  to 
plague  and  pester  two  unfortunate  people  who  had 
never  wronged  him,  and  who  were  quite  contented 
and  happy  until  he  conceived  this  base  design  against 
their  peace;  for  which  wrong  he  now  humbly  en- 
treats their  pardon. 

He  acknowledges  that  he  is  responsible  for  all 
physical  blemishes  and  deficiencies  which  may  ren- 
der him  answerable  to  the  laws  of  his  country;  that 
his  parents  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  any 
of  these  things;  and  that  they  have  a  right  to  kill 
him  at  once  if  they  be  so  minded,  though  he  entreats 

183 


Erewhon 


them  to  show  their  marvelous  goodness  and  clem- 
ency by  sparing  his  life.  If  they  will  do  this,  he 
promises  to  be  their  most  obedient  and  abject  crea- 
ture during  his  earlier  years,  and  indeed  all  his  life, 
unless  they  should  see  fit  in  their  abundant  gen- 
erosity to  remit  some  portion  of  his  service  here- 
after. And  so  the  formula  continues,  going  some- 
times into  very  minute  details,  according  to  the  fan- 
cies of  family  lawyers,  who  will  not  make  it  any 
shorter  than  they  can  help. 

The  deed  being  thus  prepared,  on  the  third  or 
fourth  day  after  the  birth  of  the  child,  or  as  they 
call  it,  the  "final  importunity,"  the  friends  gather 
together,  and  there  is  a  feast  held,  where  they  are 
all  very  melancholy — as  a  general  rule,  I  believe, 
quite  truly  so — and  make  presents  to  the  father  and 
mother  of  the  child  in  order  to  console  them  for  the 
injury  which  has  just  been  done  them  by  the  unborn. 

By-and-by  the  child  himself  is  brought  down  by 
his  nurse,  and  the  company  begin  to  rail  upon  him, 
upbraiding  him  for  his  impertinence,  and  asking 
him  what  amends  he  proposes  to  make  for  the 
wrong  that  he  has  committed,  and  how  he  can  look 
for  care  and  nourishment  from  those  who  have  per- 
haps already  been  injured  by  the  unborn  on  some 
ten  or  twelve  occasions ;  for  they  say  of  people  with 
large  families,  that  they  have  suffered  terrible  in- 
juries from  the  unborn;  till  at  last,  when  this  has 
been  carried  far  enough,  some  one  suggests  the 
formula,  which  is  brought  out  and  solemnly  read  to 
the  child  by  the  family  straightener.     This  gentle- 

184 


Birth  Formulae 


man  is  always  invited  on  these  occasions,  for  the 
very  fact  of  intrusion  into  a  peaceful  family  shows 
a  depravity  on  the  part  of  the  child  which  requires 
his  professional  services. 

On  being  teased  by  the  reading  and  tweaked  b> 
the  nurse,  the  child  will  commonly  begin  to  cryv 
which  is  reckoned  a  good  sign,  as  showing  a  con- 
sciousness of  guilt.  He  is  thereon  asked,  Does  he 
assent  to  the  formula?  on  which,  as  he  still  continues 
crying  and  can  obviously  make  no  answer,  some  one 
of  the  friends  comes  forward  and  undertakes  to  sign 
the  document  on  his  behalf,  feeling  sure  (so  he 
says)  that  the  child  would  do  it  if  he  only  knew 
how,  and  that  he  will  release  the  present  signer 
from  his  engagement  on  arriving  at  maturity.  The 
friend  then  inscribes  the  signature  of  the  child  at 
the  foot  of  the  parchment,  which  is  held  to  bind  the 
child  as  much  as  though  he  had  signed  it  himself. 

Even  this,  however,  does  not  fully  content  them, 
for  they  feel  a  little  uneasy  until  they  have  got  the 
child's  own  signature  after  all.  So  when  he  is  about 
fourteen,  these  good  people  partly  bribe  him  by 
promises  of  greater  liberty  and  good  things,  and 
partly  intimidate  him  through  their  great  power  of 
making  themselves  actively  unpleasant  to  him,  so 
that  though  there  is  a  show  of  freedom  made,  there 
is  really  none ;  they  also  use  the  offices  of  the  teach- 
ers in  the  Colleges  of  Unreason,  till  at  last,  in  one 
way  or  another,  they  take  very  good  care  that  he 
shall  sign  the  paper  by  which  he  professes  to  have 
been  a  free  agent  in  coming  into  the  world,  and  to 

185 


Erewhon 


take  all  the  responsibility  of  having  done  so  on  to 
his  own  shoulders.  And  yet,  though  this  document 
is  obviously  the  most  important  which  any  one  can 
sign  in  his  whole  life,  they  will  have  him  do  so  at 
an  age  when  neither  they  nor  the  law  will  for  many 
a  year  allow  any  one  else  to  bind  him  to  the  smallest 
obligation,  no  matter  how  righteously  he  may  owe 
it,  because  they  hold  him  too  young  to  know  what 
he  is  about,  and  do  not  consider  it  fair  that  he  should 
commit  himself  to  anything  that  may  prejudice  him 
in  after  years. 

I  own  that  all  this  seemed  rather  hard,  and  not 
of  a  piece  with  the  many  admirable  institutions  ex- 
isting among  them.  I  once  ventured  to  say  a  part 
of  what  I  thought  about  it  to  one  of  the  Professors 
of  Unreason.  I  did  it  very  tenderly,  but  his  justifi- 
cation of  the  system  was  quite  out  of  my  compre- 
hension. I  remember  asking  him  whether  he  did 
not  think  it  would  do  harm  to  a  lad's  principles,  by 
weakening  his  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  his  word  and 
of  truth  generally,  that  he  should  be  led  into  enter- 
ing upon  a  solemn  declaration  as  to  the  truth  of 
things  about  which  all  that  he  can  certainly  know  is 
that  he  knows  nothing — whether,  in  fact,  the  teach- 
ers who  so  led  him,  or  who  taught  anything  as  a 
certainty  of  which  they  were  themselves  uncertain, 
were  not  earning  their  living  by  impairing  the  truth- 
sense  of  their  pupils  (a  delicate  organization 
mostly),  and  by  vitiating  one  of  their  most  sacred 
instincts. 

The  Professor,  who  was  a  delightful  person, 
1 86 


Birth  Formulae 


seemed  greatly  surprised  at  the  view  which  I  took, 
but  it  had  no  influence  with  him  whatsoever.  No 
one,  he  answered,  expected  that  the  boy  either  would 
or  could  know  all  that  he  said  he  knew;  but  the 
world  was  full  of  compromises;  and  there  was 
hardly  any  affirmation  which  would  bear  being  inter- 
preted literally.  Human  language  was  too  gross  a 
vehicle  of  thought — thought  being  incapable  of  ab- 
solute translation.  He  added,  that  as  there  can  be 
no  translation  from  one  language  into  another 
which  shall  not  scant  the  meaning  somewhat,  or  en- 
large upon  it,  so  there  is  no  language  which  can 
render  thought  without  a  jarring  and  a  harshness 
somewhere — and  so  forth;  all  of  which  seemed  to 
come  to  this  in  the  end,  that  it  was  the  custom  of 
the  country,  and  that  the  Erewhonians  were  a  con- 
servative people ;  that  the  boy  would  have  to  begin 
compromising  sooner  or  later,  and  this  was  part  of 
his  education  in  the  art.  It  was  perhaps  to  be  re- 
gretted that  compromise  should  be  as  necessary  as 
it  was ;  still  it  was  necessary,  and  the  sooner  the  boy 
got  to  understand  it  the  better  for  himself.  But 
they  never  tell  this  to  the  boy. 

From  the  book  of  their  mythology  about  the  un- 
born I  made  the  extracts  which  will  form  the  fol- 
lowing chapter. 


187 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE  WORLD  OF  THE  UNBORN 

The  Erewhonians  say  that  we  are  drawn  through 
life  backwards;  or  again,  that  we  go  onwards  into 
the  future  as  into  a  dark  corridor.  Time  walks  be- 
side us  and  flings  back  shutters  as  we  advance ;  but 
the  light  thus  given  often  dazzles  us,  and  deepens 
the  darkness  which  is  in  front.  We  can  see  but 
little  at  a  time,  and  heed  that  little  far  less  than  our 
apprehension  of  what  we  shall  see  next ;  ever  peer- 
ing curiously  through  the  glare  of  the  present  into 
the  gloom  of  the  future,  we  presage  the  leading 
lines  of  that  which  is  before  us,  by  faintly  reflected 
lights  from  dull  mirrors  that  are  behind,  and  stum- 
ble on  as  we  may  till  the  trap-door  opens  beneath  us 
and  we  are  gone. 

They  say  at  other  times  that  the  future  and  the 
past  are  as  a  panorama  upon  two  rollers ;  that  which 
is  on  the  roller  of  the  future  unwraps  itself  on  to 
the  roller  of  the  past ;  we  cannot  hasten  it,  and  we 
may  not  stay  it;  we  must  see  all  that  is  unfolded 
to  us  whether  it  be  good  or  ill;  and  what  we  have 
seen  once  we  may  see  again  no  more.  It  is  ever 
unwinding  and  being  wound ;  we  catch  it  in  transi- 
tion for  a  moment,  and  call  it  present ;  our  flustered 
senses  gather  what  impression  they  can,   and  we 

1 88 


World  of  the  Unborn 

guess  at  what  is  coming  by  the  tenor  of  that  which 
we  have  seen.  The  same  hand  has  painted  the  whole 
picture,  and  the  incidents  vary  little — rivers,  woods, 
plains,  mountains,  towns  and  peoples,  love,  sorrow, 
and  death :  yet  the  interest  never  flags,  and  we  look 
hopefully  for  some  good  fortune,  or  fearfully  lest 
our  own  faces  be  shown  us  as  figuring  in  something 
terrible.  When  the  scene  is  past  we  think  we  know 
it,  though  there  is  so  much  to  see,  and  so  little  time 
to  see  it,  that  our  conceit  of  knowledge  as  regards 
the  past  is  for  the  most  part  poorly  founded ;  neither 
do  we  care  about  it  greatly,  save  in  so  far  as  it  may 
affect  the  future,  wherein  our  interest  mainly  lies. 

The  Erewhonians  say  it  was  by  chance  only  that 
the  earth  and  stars  and  all  the  heavenly  worlds  be- 
gan to  roll  from  east  to  west,  and  not  from  west 
to  east,  and  in  like  manner  they  say  it  is  by  chance 
that  man  is  drawn  through  life  with  his  face  to  the 
past  instead  of  to  the  future.  For  the  future  is 
there  as  much  as  the  past,  only  that  we  may  not 
see  it.  Is  it  not  in  the  loins  of  the  past,  and  must 
not  the  past  alter  before  the  future  can  do  so? 

Sometimes,  again,  they  say  that  there  was  a  race 
of  men  tried  upon  the  earth  once,  who  knew  the 
future  better  than  the  past,  but  that  they  died  in  a 
twelvemonth  from  the  misery  which  their  knowl- 
edge caused  them;  and  if  any  were  to  be  born  too 
prescient  now,  he  would  be  culled  out  by  natural 
selection,  before  he  had  time  to  transmit  so  peace- 
destroying  a  faculty  to  his  descendants. 

Strange  fate  for  man!  He  must  perish  if  he  get 
189 


Erewhon 


that,  which  he  must  perish  if  he  strive  not  after.  If 
he  strive  not  after  it  he  is  no  better  than  the  brutes, 
if  he  get  it  he  is  more  miserable  than  the  devils. 

Having  waded  through  many  chapters  like  the 
above,  I  came  at  last  to  the  unborn  themselves,  and 
found  that  they  were  held  to  be  souls  pure  and  sim- 
ple, having  no  actual  bodies,  but  living  in  a  sort  of 
gaseous  yet  more  or  less  anthropomorphic  exist- 
ence, like  that  of  a  ghost;  they  have  thus  neither 
flesh  nor  blood  nor  warmth.  Nevertheless  they  are 
supposed  to  have  local  habitations  and  cities  wherein 
they  dwell,  though  these  are  as  unsubstantial  as 
their  inhabitants;  they  are  even  thought  to  eat  and 
drink  some  thin  ambrosial  sustenance,  and  generally 
to  be  capable  of  doing  whatever  mankind  can  do, 
only  after  a  visionary  ghostly  fashion  as  in  a  dream. 
On  the  other  hand,  as  long  as  they  remain  where 
they  are  they  never  die — the  only  form  of  death  in 
the  unborn  world  being  the  leaving  it  for  our  own. 
They  are  believed  to  be  extremely  numerous,  far 
more  so  than  mankind.  They  arrive  from  unknown 
planets,  full  grown,  in  large  batches  at  a  time;  but 
they  can  only  leave  the  unborn  world  by  taking  the 
steps  necessary  for  their  arrival  here — which  is,  in 
fact,  by  suicide. 

They  ought  to  be  an  exceedingly  happy  people, 
for  they  have  no  extremes  of  good  or  ill  fortune; 
never  marrying,  but  living  in  a  state  much  like  that 
fabled  by  the  poets  as  the  primitive  condition  of 
mankind.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  they  are  in- 
cessantly complaining;  they  know  that  we  in  this 

190 


World  of  the  Unborn 

world  have  bodies,  and  indeed  they  know  every- 
thing else  about  us,  for  they  move  among  us 
whithersoever  they  will,  and  can  read  our  thoughts, 
as  well  as  survey  our  actions  at  pleasure.  One 
would  think  that  this  should  be  enough  for  them; 
and  most  of  them  are  indeed  alive  to  the  desperate 
risk  which  they  will  run  by  indulging  themselves 
in  that  body  with  "sensible  warm  motion"  which 
they  so  much  desire;  nevertheless,  there  are  some 
to  whom  the  ennui  of  a  disembodied  existence  is  so 
intolerable  that  they  will  venture  anything  for  a 
change;  so  they  resolve  to  quit.  The  conditions 
which  they  must  accept  are  so  uncertain,  that  none 
but  the  most  foolish  of  the  unborn  will  consent  to 
them ;  and  it  is  from  these,  and  these  only,  that  our 
own  ranks  are  recruited. 

When  they  have  finally  made  up  their  minds  to 
leave,  they  must  go  before  the  magistrate  of  the 
nearest  town,  and  sign  an  affidavit  of  their  desire 
to  quit  their  then  existence.  On  their  having  done 
this,  the  magistrate  reads  them  the  conditions  which 
they  must  accept,  and  which  are  so  long  that  I  can 
only  extract  some  of  the  principal  points,  which  are 
mainly  the  following: — 

First,  they  must  take  a  potion  which  will  destroy 
their  memory  and  sense  of  identity;  they  must  go 
into  the  world  helpless,  and  without  a  will  of  their 
own;  they  must  draw  lots  for  their  dispositions 
before  they  go,  and  take  them,  such  as  they  are, 
for  better  or  worse — neither  are  they  to  be  allowed 
any  choice  in  the  matter  of  the  body  which  they  so 

191 


Erewhon 


much  desire;  they  are  simply  allotted  by  chance, 
and  without  appeal,  to  two  people  whom  it  is  their 
business  to  find  and  pester  until  they  adopt  them. 
Who  these  are  to  be,  whether  rich  or  poor,  kind  or 
unkind,  healthy  or  diseased,  there  is  no  knowing; 
they  have,  in  fact,  to  entrust  themselves  for  many 
years  to  the  care  of  those  for  whose  good  constitu- 
tion and  good  sense  they  have  no  sort  of  guarantee. 

It  is  curious  to  read  the  lectures  which  the  wiser 
heads  give  to  those  who  are  meditating  a  change. 
They  talk  with  them  as  we  talk  with  a  spendthrift, 
and  with  about  as  much  success. 

"To  be  born,"  they  say,  "is  a  felony — it  is  a  cap- 
ital crime,  for  which  sentence  may  be  executed  at 
any  moment  after  the  commission  of  the  offense. 
You  may  perhaps  happen  to  live  for  some  seventy 
or  eighty  years,  but  what  is  that,  compared  with  the 
eternity  you  now  enjoy?  And  even  though  the 
sentence  were  commuted,  and  you  were  allowed  to 
live  on  for  ever,  you  would  in  time  become  so  ter- 
ribly weary  of  life  that  execution  would  be  the 
greatest  mercy  to  you. 

"Consider  the  infinite  risk ;  to  be  born  of  wicked 
parents  and  trained  in  vice!  to  be  born  of  silly 
parents,  and  trained  to  unrealities!  of  parents  who 
regard  you  as  a  sort  of  chattel  or  property,  belong- 
ing more  to  them  than  to  yourself!  Again,  you 
may  draw  utterly  unsympathetic  parents,  who  will 
never  be  able  to  understand  you,  and  who  will  do 
their  best  to  thwart  you  (as  a  hen  when  she  has 
hatched  a  duckling),  and  then  call  you  ungrateful 

192 


World  of  the  Unborn 

because  you  do  not  love  them ;  or,  again,  you  may 
draw  parents  who  look  upon  you  as  a  thing  to  be 
cowed  while  it  is  still  young,  lest  it  should  give  them 
trouble  hereafter  by  having  wishes  and  feelings  of 
its  own. 

"In  later  life,  when  you  have  been  finally  allowed 
to  pass  muster  as  a  full  member  of  the  world,  you 
will  yourself  become  liable  to  the  pesterings  of  the 
unborn — and  a  very  happy  life  you  may  be  led  in 
consequence !  For  we  solicit  so  strongly  that  a  few 
only — nor  these  the  best — can  refuse  us ;  and  yet  not 
to  refuse  is  much  the  same  as  going  into  partner- 
ship with  half-a-dozen  different  people  about  whom 
one  can  know  absolutely  nothing  beforehand — not 
even  whether  one  is  going  into  partnership  with  men 
or  women,  nor  with  how  many  of  either.  Delude 
not  yourself  with  thinking  that  you  will  be  wiser 
than  your  parents.  You  may  be  an  age  in  advance 
of  those  whom  you  have  pestered,  but  unless  you 
are  one  of  the  great  ones  you  will  still  be  an  age  be- 
hind those  who  will  in  their  turn  pester  you. 

"Imagine  what  it  must  be  to  have  an  unborn 
quartered  upon  you,  who  is  of  an  entirely  different 
temperament  and  disposition  to  your  own;  nay, 
half-a-dozen  such,  who  Will  not  love  you  though 
you  have  stinted  yourself  in  a  thousand  ways  to 
provide  for  their  comfort  and  well-being, — who 
will  forget  all  your  self-sacrifice,  and  of  whom  you 
may  never  be  sure  that  they  are  not  bearing  a 
grudge  against  you  for  errors  of  judgment  into 
which  you  may  have  fallen,  though  you  had  hoped 

193 


Erewhon 


that  such  had  been  long  since  atoned  for.  Ingrati- 
tude such  as  this  is  not  uncommon,  yet  fancy  what 
it  must  be  to  bear!  It  is  hard  upon  the  duckling 
to  have  been  hatched  by  a  hen,  but  is  it  not  also 
hard  upon  the  hen  to  have  hatched  the  duckling? 

"Consider  it  again,  we  pray  you,  not  for  our  sake 
but  for  your  own.  Your  initial  character  you  must 
draw  by  lot;  but  whatever  it  is,  it  can  only  come 
to  a  tolerably  successful  development  after  long 
training ;  remember  that  over  that  training  you  will 
have  no  control.  It  is  possible,  and  even  probable, 
that  whatever  you  may  get  in  after  life  which  is  of 
real  pleasure  and  service  to  you,  will  have  to  be 
won  in  spite  of,  rather  than  by  the  help  of,  those 
whom  you  are  now  about  to  pester,  and  that  you 
will  only  win  your  freedom  after  years  of  a  painful 
struggle  in  which  it  will  be  hard  to  say  whether 
you  have  suffered  most  injury,  or  inflicted  it. 

"Remember  also,  that  if  you  go  into  the  world 
you  will  have  free  will ;  that  you  will  be  obliged  to 
have  it;  that  there  is  no  escaping  it;  that  you  will 
be  fettered  to  it  during  your  whole  life,  and  must  on 
every  occasion  do  that  which  on  the  whole  seems 
best  to  you  at  any  given  time,  no  matter  whether 
you  are  right  or  wrong  in  choosing  it.  Your  mind 
will  be  a  balance  for  considerations,  and  your  action 
will  go  with  the  heavier  scale.  How  it  shall  fall  will 
depend  upon  the  kind  of  scales  which  you  may  have 
drawn  at  birth,  the  bias  which  they  will  have  ob- 
tained by  use,  and  the  weight  of  the  immediate  con- 
siderations.    If  the  scales  were  good  to  start  with 

194 


World  of  the  Unborn 

and  if  they  have  not  been  outrageously  tampered 
with  in  childhood,  and  if  the  combinations  into 
which  you  enter  are  average  ones,  you  may  come  off 
well;  but  there  are  too  many  'ifs'  in  this,  and  with 
the  failure  of  any  one  of  them  your  misery  is  as- 
sured. Reflect  on  this,  and  remember  that  should 
the  ill  come  upon  you,  you  will  have  yourself  to 
thank,  for  it  is  your  own  choice  to  be  boHi,  and 
there  is  no  compulsion  in  the  matter. 

"Not  that  we  deny  the  existence  of  pleasures 
among  mankind;  there  is  a  certain  show  of  sundry 
phases  of  contentment  which  may  even  amount  to 
very  considerable  happiness ;  but  mark  how  they  are 
distributed  over  a  man's  life,  belonging,  all  the  keen- 
est of  them,  to  the  fore  part,  and  few  indeed  to  the 
after.  Can  there  be  any  pleasure  worth  purchasing 
with  the  miseries  of  a  decrepit  age?  If  you  are 
good,  strong,  and  handsome,  you  have  a  fine  for- 
tune indeed  at  twenty,  but  how  much  of  it  will  be 
left  at  sixty?  For  you  must  live  on  your  capital; 
there  is  no  investing  your  powers  so  that  you  may 
get  a  small  annuity  of  life  for  ever:  you  must  eat 
up  your  principal  bit  by  bit,  and  be  tortured  by  see- 
ing it  grow  continually  smaller  and  smaller,  even 
though  you  happen  to  escape  being  rudely  robbed  of 
it  by  crime  or  casualty. 

"Remember,  too,  that  there  never  yet  was  a  man 
of  forty  who  would  not  come  back  into  the  world 
of  the  unborn  if  he  could  do  so  with  decency  and 
honor.  Being  in  the  world  he  will  as  a  general  rule 
stay  till  he  is  forced  to  go;  but  do  you  think  that 

195 


Erewhon 


he  would  consent  to  be  born  again,  and  relive  his 
life,  if  he  had  the  offer  of  doing  so?  Do  not  think 
it.  If  he  could  so  alter  the  past  as  that  he  should 
never  have  come  into  being  at  all,  do  you  not  think 
that  he  would  do  it  very  gladly  ? 

"What  was  it  that  one  of  their  own  poets  meant, 
if  it  was  not  this,  when  he  cried  out  upon  the  day 
in  which  he  was  born,  and  the  night  in  which  it  was 
said  there  is  a  man  child  conceived  ?  'For  now,'  he 
says,  'I  should  have  lain  still  and  been  quiet,  I  should 
have  slept;  then  had  I  been  at  rest  with  kings  and 
counselors  of  the  earth,  which  built  desolate  places 
for  themselves;  or  with  princes  that  had  gold,  who 
filled  their  houses  with  silver;  or  as  an  hidden  un- 
timely birth,  I  had  not  been ;  as  infants  which  never 
saw  light.  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
and  the  weary  are  at  rest/  Be  very  sure  that  the 
guilt  of  being  born  carries  this  punishment  at  times 
to  all  men ;  but  how  can  they  ask  for  pity,  or  com- 
plain of  any  mischief  that  may  befall  them,  having 
entered  open-eyed  into  the  snare? 

"One  word  more  and  we  have  done.  If  any  faint 
remembrance,  as  of  a  dream,  flit  in  some  puzzled 
moment  across  }^our  brain,  and  you  shall  feel  that 
the  potion  which  is  to  be  given  you  shall  not  have 
done  its  work,  and  the  memory  of  this  existence 
w7hich  you  are  leaving  endeavors  vainly  to  return; 
we  say  in  such  a  moment,  when  you  clutch  at  the 
dream  but  it  eludes  your  grasp,  and  you  watch  it, 
as  Orpheus  watched  Eurydice,  gliding  back  again 
into  the  twilight  kingdom,  fly — fly — if  you  can  re- 

196 


World  of  the  Unborn 

member  the  advice — to  the  haven  of  your  present 
and  immediate  duty,  taking  shelter  incessantly  in 
the  work  which  you  have  in  hand.  This  much  you 
may  perhaps  recall ;  and  this,  if  you  will  imprint  it 
deeply  upon  your  every  faculty,  will  be  most  likely 
to  bring  you  safely  and  honorably  home  through  the 
trials  that  are  before  you."  1 

This  is  the  fashion  in  which  they  reason  with 
those  who  would  be  for  leaving  them,  but  it  is  sel- 
dom that  they  do  much  good,  for  none  but  the  un- 
quiet and  unreasonable  ever  think  of  being  born,  and 
those  who  are  foolish  enough  to  think  of  it  are  gen- 
erally foolish  enough  to  do  it.  Finding,  therefore, 
that  they  can  do  no  more,  the  friends  follow  weep- 
ing to  the  courthouse  of  the  chief  magistrate,  where 
the  one  who  wishes  to  be  born  declares  solemnly 
and  openly  that  he  accepts  the  conditions  attached 
to  his  decision.  On  this  he  is  presented  with  a 
potion,  which  immediately  destroys  his  memory  and 
sense  of  identity,  and  dissipates  the  thin  gaseous 
tenement  which  he  has  inhabited :  he  becomes  a  bare 
vital  principle,  not  to  be  perceived  by  human  senses, 
nor  to  be  by  any  chemical  test  appreciated.  He  has 
but  one  instinct,  which  is  that  he  is  to  go  to  such 
such  a  place,  where  he  will  find  two  persons  v ' 
he  is  to  importune  till  they  consent  to  undertake 
him ;  but  whether  he  is  to  find  these  persons  among 
the  race  of  Chowbok  or  the  Erewhonians  themselves 
is  not  for  him  to  choose. 

1The  myth  above  alluded  to  exists  in  Erewhon  with  changed 
names,  and  considerable  modifications.  I  have  taken  the  lib- 
erty of  referring  to  the  story  as  familiar  to  ourselves. 

197 


CHAPTER    XX 

WHAT  THEY  MEAN  BY  IT 

I  have  given  the  above  mythology  at  some  length, 
but  it  is  only  a  small  part  of  what  they  have  upon 
the  subject.  My  first  feeling  on  reading  it  was  that 
any  amount  of  folly  on  the  part  of  the  unborn  in 
coming  here  was  justified  by  a  desire  to  escape  from 
such  intolerable  prosing.  The  mythology  is  ob- 
viously an  unfair  and  exaggerated  representation  of 
life  and  things;  and  had  its  authors  been  so  minded 
they  could  have  easily  drawn  a  picture  which  would 
err  as  much  on  the  bright  side  as  this  does  on  the 
dark.  No  Erewhonian  believes  that  the  world  is  as 
black  as  it  has  been  here  painted,  but  it  is  one  of 
their  peculiarities  that  they  very  often  do  not  be- 
lieve or  mean  things  which  they  profess  to  regard 
as  indisputable. 

In  the  present  instance  their  professed  views  con- 
cerning the  unborn  have  arisen  from  their  desire 
to  prove  that  people  have  been  presented  with  the 
gloomiest  possible  picture  of  their  own  prospects 
before  they  came  here;  otherwise,  they  could  hardly 
say  to  one  whom  they  are  going  to  punish  for  an 
affection  of  the  heart  or  brain  that  it  is  all  his  own 
doing.  In  practice  they  modify  their  theory  to  a 
considerable  extent,  and  seldom  refer  to  the  birth 

198 


What  They  Mean 


formula  except  in  extreme  cases;  for  the  force  of 
habit,  or  what  not,  gives  many  of  them  a  kindly 
interest  even  in  creatures  who  have  so  much 
wronged  them  as  the  unborn  have  done ;  and  though 
a  man  generally  hates  the  unwelcome  little  stranger 
for  the  first  twelve  months,  he  is  apt  to  mollify  (ac- 
cording to  his  lights)  as  time  goes  on,  and  some- 
times he  will  become  inordinately  attached  to  the  be- 
ings whom  he  is  pleased  to  call  his  children. 

Of  course,  according  to  Erewhonian  premises,  it 
would  serve  people  right  to  be  punished  and  scouted 
for  moral  and  intellectual  diseases  as  much  as  for 
physical,  and  I  cannot  to  this  day  understand  why 
they  should  have  stopped  short  half  way.  Neither, 
again,  can  I  understand  why  their  having  done  so 
should  have  been,  as  it  certainly  was,  a  matter  of 
so  much  concern  to  myself.  What  could  it  matter 
to  me  how  many  absurdities  the  Erewhonians  might 
adopt?  Nevertheless  I  longed  to  make  them  think 
as  I  did,  for  the  wish  to  spread  those  opinions  that 
we  hold  conducive  to  our  own  welfare  is  so  deeply 
rooted  in  the  English  character  that  few  of  us  can 
escape  its  influence.     But  let  this  pass. 

In  spite  of  not  a  few  modifications  in  practice  of 
a  theory  which  is  itself  revolting,  the  relations  be- 
tween children  and  parents  in  that  country  are  less 
happy  than  in  Europe.  It  was  rarely  that  I  saw 
cases  of  real  hearty  and  intense  affection  between 
the  old  people  and  the  young  ones.  Here  and  there 
I  did  so,  and  was  quite  sure  that  the  children,  even 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  were  fonder  of  their  parents 

199 


Erewhon 


than  they  were  of  any  one  else;  and  that  of  their 
own  inclination,  being  free  to  choose  what  company 
they  would,  they  would  often  choose  that  of  their 
father  and  mother.  The  straightener's  carriage  was 
rarely  seen  at  the  door  of  those  houses.  I  saw  two 
or  three  such  cases  during  the  time  that  I  remained 
in  the  country,  and  cannot  express  the  pleasure 
which  I  derived  from  a  sight  suggestive  of  so  much 
goodness  and  wisdom  and  forbearance,  so  richly  re- 
warded; yet  I  firmly  believe  that  the  same  thing 
would  happen  in  nine  families  out  of  ten  if  the 
parents  were  merely  to  remember  how  they  felt 
when  they  were  young,  and  actually  to  behave  to- 
wards their  children  as  they  would  have  had  their 
own  parents  behave  towards  themselves.  But  this, 
which  would  appear  to  be  so  simple  and  obvious, 
seems  also  to  be  a  thing  which  not  one  in  a  hundred 
thousand  is  able  to  put  in  practice.  It  is  only  the 
very  great  and  good  who  have  any  living  faith  in 
the  simplest  axioms ;  and  there  are  few  who  are  so 
holy  as  to  feel  that  19  and  13  make  32  as  certainly 
as  2  and  2  make  4. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  if  this  narrative  should  ever 
fall  into  Erewhonian  hands,  it  will  be  said  that  what 
I  have  written  about  the  relations  between  parents 
and  children  being  seldom  satisfactory  is  an  in- 
famous perversion  of  facts,  and  that  in  truth  there 
are  few  young  people  who  do  not  feel  happier  in 
the  society  of  their  nearest  relations  *  than  in  any 

1  What  a  safe  word  "relation"  is;  how  little  it  predicates! 
yet  it  has  overgrown  "kinsman." 

200 


What  They  Mean 


other.  Mr.  Nosnibor  would  be  sure  to  say  this. 
Yet  I  canont  refrain  from  expressing  an  opinion 
that  he  would  be  a  good  deal  embarrassed  if  his  de- 
ceased parents  were  to  reappear  and  propose  to  pay 
him  a  six  months'  visit.  I  doubt  whether  there  are 
many  things  which  he  would  regard  as  a  greater 
infliction.  They  had  died  at  a  ripe  old  age  some 
twenty  years  before  I  came  to  know  him,  so  the  case 
is  an  extreme  one;  but  surely  if  they  had  treated 
him  with  what  in  his  youth  he  had  felt  to  be  true 
unselfishness,  his  face  would  brighten  when  he 
thought  of  them  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

In  the  one  or  two  cases  of  true  family  affection 
which  I  met  with,  I  am  sure  that  the  young  people 
who  were  so  genuinely  fond  of  their  fathers  and 
mothers  at  eighteen,  would  at  sixty  be  perfectly  de- 
lighted were  they  to  get  the  chance  of  welcoming 
them  as  their  guests.  There  is  nothing  which  could 
please  them  better,  except  perhaps  to  watch  the  hap- 
piness of  their  own  children  and  grandchildren. 

This  is  how  things  should  be.  It  is  not  an  im- 
possible ideal;  it  is  one  which  actually  does  exist 
in  some  few  cases,  and  might  exist  in  almost  all, 
with  a  little  more  patience  and  forbearance  upon  the 
parents'  part ;  but  it  is  rare  at  present — so  rare  that 
they  have  a  proverb  which  I  can  only  translate  in 
a  very  roundabout  way,  but  which  says  that  the 
great  happiness  of  some  people  in  a  future  state  will 
consist  in  watching  the  distress  of  their  parents  on 
returning  to  eternal  companionship  with  their  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers;  whilst  "compulsory  af- 

201 


Erewhon 


fection"  is  the  idea  which  lies  at  the  root  of  their 
word  for  the  deepest  anguish. 

There  is  no  talisman  in  the  word  "parent"  which 
can  generate  miracles  of  affection,  and  I  can  well 
believe  that  my  own  child  might  find  it  less  of  a 
calamity  to  lose  both  Arowhena  and  myself  when 
he  is  six  years  old,  than  to  find  us  again  when  he  is 
sixty — a  sentence  wThich  I  would  not  pen  did  I  not 
feel  that  by  doing  so  I  was  giving  him  something 
like  a  hostage,  or  at  any  rate  putting  a  weapon  into 
his  hands  against  me,  should  my  selfishness  exceed 
reasonable  limits. 

Money  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  to  a  great  extent. 
If  the  parents  would  put  their  children  in  the  way 
of  earning  a  competence  earlier  than  they  do,  the 
children  would  soon  become  self-supporting  and  in« 
dependent.  As  it  is,  under  the  present  system,  the 
young  ones  get  old  enough  to  have  all  manner  of 
legitimate  wants  (that  is,  if  they  have  any  "go" 
about  them)  before  they  have  learnt  the  means  of 
earning  money  to  pay  for  them;  hence  they  must 
either  do  without  them,  or  take  more  money  than 
the  parents  can  be  expected  to  spare.  This  is  due 
chiefly  to  the  schools  of  Unreason,  where  a  boy  is 
taught  upon  hypothetical  principles,  as  I  will  explain 
hereafter ;  spending  years  in  being  incapacitated  for 
doing  this,  that,  or  the  other  (he  hardly  knows 
what),  during  all  which  time  he  ought  to  have  been 
actually  doing  the  thing  itself,  beginning  at  the  low- 
est grades,  picking  it  up  through  actual  practice,  and 
rising  according  to  the  energy  which  is  in  him. 

202 


What  They  Mean 


These  schools  of  Unreason  surprised  me  much. 
It  would  be  easy  to  fall  into  pseudo-utilitarianism, 
and  I  would  fain  believe  that  the  system  may  be 
good  for  the  children  of  very  rich  parents,  or  for 
those  who  show  a  natural  instinct  to  acquire  hypo- 
thetical lore ;  but  the  misery  was  that  their  Ydgrun- 
worship  required  all  people  with  any  pretence  to 
respectability  to  send  their  children  to  some  one  or 
ether  of  these  schools,  mulcting  them  of  years  of 
money.  It  astonished  me  to  see  what  sacrifices  the 
parents  would  make  in  order  to  render  their  children 
as  nearly  useless  as  possible ;  and  it  was  hard  to  say 
whether  the  old  suffered  most  from  the  expense 
which  they  were  thus  put  to,  or  the  young  from 
being  deliberately  swindled  in  some  of  the  most  im- 
portant branches  of  human  inquiry,  and  directed 
into  false  channels  or  left  to  drift  in  the  great  ma- 
jority of  cases. 

I  cannot  think  I  am  mistaken  in  believing  that 
the  growing  tendency  to  limit  families  by  infanticide 
— an  evil  which  was  causing  general  alarm  through- 
out the  country — was  almost  entirely  due  to  the 
way  in  which  education  had  become  a  fetish  from 
one  end  of  Erewhon  to  the  other.  Granted  that 
provision  should  be  made  whereby  every  child 
should  be  taught  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic, 
but  here  compulsory  state-aided  education  should 
end,  and  the  child  should  begin  (with  all  due  pre- 
cautions to  ensure  that  he  is  not  overworked)  to 
acquire  the  rudiments  of  that  art  whereby  he  is  to 
earn  his  living. 

203 


Erewhon 


He  cannot  acquire  these  in  what  we  in  England 
call  schools  of  technical  education;  such  schools 
are  cloister  life  as  against  the  rough  and  tumble  of 
the  world;  they  unfit,  rather  than  fit  for  work  in 
the  open.  An  art  can  only  be  learned  in  the  work- 
shop of  those  who  are  winning  their  bread  by  it. 

Boys,  as  a  rule,  hate  the  artificial,  and  delight  in 
the  actual;  give  them  the  chance  of  earning,  and 
they  will  soon  earn.  When  parents  find  that  their 
children,  instead  of  being  made  artificially  burden- 
some, will  early  begin  to  contribute  to  the  well-being 
of  the  family,  they  will  soon  leave  off  killing  them, 
and  will  seek  to  have  that  plenitude  of  offspring 
which  they  now  avoid.  As  things  are,  the  state 
lays  greater  burdens  on  parents  than  flesh  and  blood 
can  bear,  and  then  wrings  its  hands  over  an  evil  for 
which  it  is  itself  mainly  responsible. 

With  the  less  well-dressed  classes  the  harm  was 
not  so  great;  for  among  these,  at  about  ten  years 
old,  the  child  has  to  begin  doing  something:  if  he 
is  capable  he  makes  his  way  up;  if  he  is  not,  he  is 
at  any  rate  not  made  more  incapable  by  what  his 
friends  are  pleased  to  call  his  education.  People 
find  their  level  as  a  rule;  and  though  they  unfor- 
tunately sometimes  miss  it,  it  is  in  the  main  true 
that  those  who  have  valuable  qualities  are  perceived 
to  have  them  and  can  sell  them.  I  think  that  the 
Erewhonians  are  beginning  to  become  aware  of 
these  things,  for  there  was  much  talk  about  putting 
a  tax  upon  all  parents  whose  children  were  not 
earning  a  competence  according  to  their  degrees 

204 


What  They  Mean 


by  the  time  they  were  twenty  years  old.  I  am  sure 
that  if  they  will  have  the  courage  to  carry  it  through 
they  will  never  regret  it;  for  the  parents  will  take 
care  that  the  children  shall  begin  earning  money 
(which  means  "doing  good"  to  society)  at  an  early 
age;  then  the  children  will  be  independent  early, 
and  they  will  not  press  on  the  parents,  nor  the 
parents  on  them,  and  they  will  like  each  other  bet- 
ter than  they  do  now. 

This  is  the  true  philanthropy.  He  who  makes  a 
colossal  fortune  in  the  hosiery  trade,  and  by  his 
energy  has  succeeded  in  reducing  the  price  of 
woolen  goods  by  the  thousandth  part  of  a  penny 
in  the  pound — this  man  is  worth  ten  professional 
philanthropists.  So  strongly  are  the  Erewhonians 
impressed  with  this,  that  if  a  man  has  made  a  for- 
tune of  over  £20,000  a  year  they  exempt  him  from 
all  taxation,  considering  him  as  a  work  of  art,  and 
too  precious  to  be  meddled  with;  they  say,  "How 
very  much  he  must  have  done  for  society  before 
society  could  have  been  prevailed  upon  to  give  him 
so  much  money ;"  so  magnificent  an  organization 
overawes  them;  they  regard  it  as  a  thing  dropped 
from  heaven. 

"Money,"  they  say,  "is  the  symbol  of  duty,  it  is 
the  sacrament  of  having  done  for  mankind  that 
which  mankind  wanted.  Mankind  may  not  be  a 
very  good  judge,  but  there  is  no  better."  This  used 
to  shock  me  at  first,  when  I  remembered  that  it 
had  been  said  on  high  authority  that  they  who  have 
riches    shall    enter    hardly    into    the    kingdom    of 

205 


Erewhon 


heaven;  but  the  influence  of  Erewhon  had  made 
me  begin  to  see  things  in  a  new  light,  and  I  could 
not  help  thinking  that  they  who  have  not  riches  shall 
enter  more  hardly  still. 

People  oppose  money  to  culture,  and  imply  that 
if  a  man  has  spent  his  time  in  making  money  he 
will  not  be  cultivated — fallacy  of  fallacies!  As 
though  there  could  be  a  greater  aid  to  culture  than 
the  having  earned  an  honorable  independence,  and 
as  though  any  amount  of  culture  will  do  much  for 
the  man  who  is  penniless,  except  make  him  feel 
his  position  more  deeply.  The  young  man  who  was 
told  to  sell  all  his  goods  and  give  to  the  poor,  must 
have  been  an  entirely  exceptional  person  if  the  ad- 
vice was  given  wisely,  either  for  him  or  for  the 
poor;  how  much  more  often  does  it  happen  that 
we  perceive  a  man  to  have  all  sorts  of  good  quali- 
ties except  money,  and  feel  that  his  real  duty  lies 
in  getting  every  half -penny  that  he  can  persuade 
others  to  pay  him  for  his  services,  and  becoming 
rich.  It  has  been  said  that  the  love  of  money  is 
the  root  of  all  evil.  The  want  of  money  is  so  quite 
as  truly. 

The  above  may  sound  irreverent,  but  it  is  con- 
ceived in  a  spirit  of  the  most  utter  reverence  for 
those  things  which  do  alone  deserve  it — that  is,  for 
the  things  which  are,  which  mold  us  and  fashion 
us,  be  they  what  they  may ;  for  the  things  that  have 
power  to  punish  us,  and  which  will  punish  us  if  we 
do  not  heed  them ;  for  our  masters  therefore.  But 
I  am  drifting  away  from  my  story. 

206 


What  They  Mean 


They  have  another  plan  about  which  they  are 
making  a  great  noise  and  fuss,  much  as  some  are 
doing  with  women's  rights  in  England.  A  party  of 
extreme  radicals  have  professed  themselves  unable 
to  decide  upon  the  superiority  of  age  or  youth.  At 
present  all  goes  on  the  supposition  that  it  is  desir- 
able to  make  the  young  old  as  soon  as  possible. 
Some  would  have  it  that  this  is  wrong,  and  that  the 
object  of  education  should  be  to  keep  the  old  young 
as  long  as  possible.  They  say  that  each  age  should 
take  it  turn  in  turn  about,  week  by  week,  one  week 
the  old  to  be  topsawyers,  and  the  other  the  young, 
drawing  the  line  at  thirty-five  years  of  age;  but 
they  insist  that  the  young  should  be  allowed  to  in- 
flict corporal  chastisement  on  the  old,  without  which 
the  old  would  be  quite  incorrigible.  In  any  Euro- 
pean country  this  would  be  out  of  the  question; 
but  it  is  not  so  there,  for  the  straighteners  are 
constantly  ordering  people  to  be  flogged,  so  that  they 
are  familiar  with  the  notion.  I  do  not  suppose  that 
the  idea  will  be  ever  acted  upon;  but  its  having 
been  even  mooted  is  enough  to  show  the  utter  per- 
version of  the  Erewhonian  mind. 


207 


CHAPTER     XXI 

THE   COLLEGES    OF    UNREASON 

I  had  now  been  a  visitor  with  the  Nosnibors  for 
some  five  or  six  months,  and  though  I  had  fre- 
quently proposed  to  leave  them  and  take  apart- 
ments of  my  own,  they  would  not  hear  of  my  doing 
so.  I  suppose  they  thought  I  should  be  more  likely 
to  fall  in  love  with  Zulora  if  I  remained,  but  it 
was  my  affection  for  Arowhena  that  kept  me. 

During  all  this  time  both  Arowhena  and  myself 
had  been  dreaming,  and  drifting  towards  an 
avowed  attachment,  but  had  not  dared  to  face  the 
real  difficulties  of  the  position.  Gradually,  how- 
ever, matters  came  to  a  crisis  in  spite  of  ourselves, 
and  we  got  to  see  the  true  state  of  the  case,  all  too 
clearly. 

One  evening  we  were  sitting  in  the  garden,  and  I 
had  been  trying  in  every  stupid  roundabout  way  to 
get  her  to  say  that  she  should  be  at  any  rate  sorry 
for  a  man,  if  he  really  loved  a  woman  who  would 
not  marry  him.  I  had  been  stammering  and  blush- 
ing, and  been  as  silly  as  any  one  could  be,  and  I 
suppose  had  pained  her  by  fishing  for  pity  for  my- 
self in  such  a  transparent  way,  and  saying  nothing 
about  her  own  need  of  it;  at  any  rate,  she  turned 
upon  me  with  a  sweet  sad  smile  and  said,  "Sorry? 

208 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

I  am  sorry  for  myself;  I  am  sorry  for  you;  and  I 
am  sorry  for  every  one."  The  words  had  no  sooner 
crossed  her  lips  than  she  bowed  her  head,  gave  me 
a  look  as  though  I  were  to  make  no  answer,  and 
left  me. 

The  words  were  few  and  simple,  but  the  manner 
with  which  they  were  uttered  was  ineffable:  the 
scales  fell  from  my  eyes,  and  I  felt  that  I  had  no 
right  to  try  and  induce  her  to  infringe  one  of  the 
most  inviolable  customs  of  her  country,  as  she  needs 
must  do  if  she  were  to  marry  me.  I  sat  for  a  long 
while  thinking,  and  when  I  remembered  the  sin 
and  shame  and  misery  which  an  unrighteous  mar- 
riage— for  as  such  it  would  be  held  in  Erewhon — 
would  entail,  I  became  thoroughly  ashamed  of  my- 
self for  having  been  so  long  self-blinded.  I  write 
coldly  now,  but  I  suffered  keenly  at  the  time,  and 
should  probably  retain  a  much  more  vivid  recollec- 
tion of  what  I  felt,  had  not  all  ended  so  happily. 

As  for  giving  up  the  idea  of  marrying  Arowhena, 
it  never  so  much  as  entered  my  head  to  do  so :  the 
solution  must  be  found  in  some  other  direction 
than  this.  The  idea  of  waiting  till  somebody  mar- 
ried Zulora  was  to  be  no  less  summarily  dismissed. 
To  marry  Arowhena  at  once  in  Erewhon — this  had 
already  been  abandoned:  there  remained  therefore 
but  one  alternative,  and  that  was  to  run  away  with 
her,  and  get  her  with  me  to  Europe,  where  there 
would  be  no  bar  to  our  union  save  my  own  impe- 
cuniosity,  a  matter  which  gave  me  no  uneasiness. 

To  this  obvious  and  simple  plan  I  could  see  but 
209 


Erewhon 


two  objections  that  deserved  the  name, — the  first, 
that  perhaps  Arowhena  would  not  come;  the  sec- 
ond, that  it  was  almost  impossible  for  me  to  escape 
even  alone,  for  the  king  had  himself  told  me  that 
I  was  to  consider  myself  a  prisoner  on  parole,  and 
that  the  first  sign  of  my  endeavoring  to  escape  would 
cause  me  to  be  sent  to  one  of  the  hospitals  for 
incurables.  Besides,  I  did  not  know  the  geography 
of  the  country,  and  even  were  I  to  try  and  find  my 
way  back,  I  should  be  discovered  long  before  I 
had  reached  the  pass  over  which  I  had  come.  How 
then  could  I  hope  to  be  able  to  take  Arowhena  with 
me?  For  days  and  days  I  turned  these  difficulties 
over  in  my  mind,  and  at  last  hit  upon  as  wild  a  plan 
as  was  ever  suggested  by  extremity.  This  was  to 
meet  the  second  difficulty:  the  first  gave  me  less 
uneasiness,  for  when  Arowhena  and  I  next  met 
after  our  interview  in  the  garden  I  could  see  that 
she  had  suffered  not  less  acutely  than  myself. 

I  resolved  that  I  would  have  another  interview 
with  her — the  last  for  the  present — that  I  would 
then  leave  her,  and  set  to  work  upon  maturing  my 
plan  as  fast  as  possible.  We  got  a  chance  of  being 
alone  together,  and  then  I  gave  myself  the  loose 
rein,  and  told  her  how  passionately  and  devotedly 
I  loved  her.  She  said  little  in  return,  but  her  tears 
(which  I  could  not  refrain  from  answering  with  my 
own)  and  the  little  she  did  say  were  quite  enough 
to  show  me  that  I  should  meet  with  no  obstacle 
from  her.  Then  I  asked  her  whether  she  would  run 
a  terrible  risk  which  we  should  share  in  common, 

210 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

if,  in  case  of  success,  I  could  take  her  to  my  own 
people,  to  the  home  of  my  mother  and  sisters, 
who  would  welcome  her  very  gladly.  At  the  same 
time  I  pointed  out  that  the  chances  of  failure  were 
far  greater  than  those  of  success,  and  that  the  prob- 
ability was  that  even  though  I  could  get  so  far  as 
to  carry  my  design  into  execution,  it  would  end  in 
death  to  us  both. 

I  was  not  mistaken  in  her;  she  said  that  she 
believed  I  loved  her  as  much  as  she  loved  me,  and 
that  she  would  brave  anything  if  I  could  only  assure 
her  that  what  I  proposed  would  not  be  thought  dis- 
honorable in  England;  she  could  not  live  without 
me,  and  would  rather  die  with  me  than  alone;  that 
death  was  perhaps  the  best  for  us  both ;  that  I  must 
plan,  and  that  when  the  hour  came  I  was  to  send 
for  her,  and  trust  her  not  to  fail  me;  and  so  after 
many  tears  and  embraces,  we  tore  ourselves  away. 

I  then  left  the  Nosnibors,  took  a  lodging  in  the 
town,  and  became  melancholy  to  my  heart's  con- 
tent. Arowhena  and  I  used  to  see  each  other  some- 
times, for  I  had  taken  to  going  regularly  to  the 
Musical  Banks,  but  Airs.  Nosnibor  and  Zulora  both 
treated  me  with  considerable  coldness.  I  felt  sure 
that  they  suspected  me.  Arowhena  looked  miser- 
able, and  I  saw  that  her  purse  was  now  always  as 
full  as  she  could  fill  it  with  the  Musical  Bank  money 
— much  fuller  than  of  old.  Then  the  horrible 
thought  occurred  to  me  that  her  health  might  break 
down,  and  that  she  might  be  subjected  to  a  criminal 

211 


Erewhon 


prosecution.  Oh!  how  I  hated  Erewhon  at  that 
time. 

I  was  still  received  at  court,  but  my  good  looks 
were  beginning  to  fail  me,  and  I  was  not  such  an 
adept  at  concealing  the  effects  of  pain  as  the  Ere- 
whonians  are.  I  could  see  that  my  friends  began 
to  look  concerned  about  me,  and  was  obliged  to 
take  a  leaf  out  of  Manama's  book,  and  pretend  to 
have  developed  a  taste  for  drinking.  I  even  con- 
sulted a  straightener  as  though  this  were  so,  and 
submitted  to  much  discomfort.  This  made  matters 
better  for  a  time,  but  I  could  see  that  my  friends 
thought  less  highly  of  my  constitution  as  my  flesh 
began  to  fall  away. 

I  was  told  that  the  poor  made  an  outcry  about 
my  pension,  and  I  saw  a  stinging  article  in  an  anti- 
ministerial  paper,  in  which  the  writer  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  my  having  light  hair  reflected  little 
credit  upon  me,  inasmuch  as  I  had  been  reported 
to  have  said  that  it  was  a  common  thing  in  the 
country  from  which  I  came.  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  Mr.  Nosnibor  himself  inspired  this  ar- 
ticle. Presently  it  came  round  to  me  that  the  king 
had  begun  to  dwell  upon  my  having  been  possessed 
of  a  watch,  and  to  say  that  I  ought  to  be  treated 
medicinally  for  having  told  him  a  lie  about  the 
balloons.  I  saw  misfortune  gathering  round  me  in 
every  direction,  and  felt  that  I  should  have  need 
of  all  my  wits  and  a  good  many  more,  if  I  was 
to  steer  myself  and  Arowhena  to  a  good  conclusion. 

There  were  some  who  continued  to  show  me  kind- 
212 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

ness,  and  strange  to  say,  I  received  the  most  from 
the  very  persons  from  whom  I  should  have  least 
expected  it — I  mean  from  the  cashiers  of  the  Mu- 
sical Banks.  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  sev- 
eral of  these  persons,  and  now  that  I  frequented 
their  bank,  they  were  inclined  to  make  a  good  deal 
of  me.  One  of  them,  seeing  that  I  was  thoroughly 
out  of  health,  though  of  course  he  pretended  not 
to  notice  it,  suggested  that  I  should  take  a  little 
change  of  air  and  go  down  with  him  to  one  of  the 
principal  towns,  which  was  some  two  or  three  days' 
journey  from  the  metropolis,  and  the  chief  seat  of 
the  Colleges  of  Unreason;  he  assured  me  that  I 
should  be  delighted  with  what  I  saw,  and  that  I 
should  receive  a  most  hospitable  welcome.  I  de- 
termined therefore  to  accept  the  invitation. 

We  started  two  or  three  days  later,  and  after  a 
night  on  the  road,  wre  arrived  at  our  destination 
towards  evening.  It  was  now  full  spring,  and  as 
nearly  as  might  be  ten  months  since  I  had  started 
with  Chowbok  on  my  expedition,  but  it  seemed 
more  like  ten  years.  The  trees  were  in  their  freshest 
beauty,  and  the  air  had  become  warm  without  being 
oppressively  hot.  After  having  lived  so  many 
months  in  the  metropolis,  the  sight  of  the  country, 
and  the  country  villages  through  which  we  passed 
refreshed  me  greatly,  but  I  could  not  forget  my 
troubles.  The  last  five  miles  or  so  were  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  the  journey,  for  the  country  be- 
came more  undulating,  and  the  woods  were  more 
extensive;  but  the  first  sight  of  the  city  of  the  col- 

213 


Erewhon 


leges  itself  was  the  most  delightful  of  all.  I  cannot 
imagine  that  there  can  be  any  fairer  in  the  whole 
world,  and  I  expressed  my  pleasure  to  my  com- 
panion, and  thanked  him  for  having  brought  me. 

We  drove  to  an  inn  in  the  middle  of  the  town, 
and  then,  while  it  was  still  light,  my  friend  the 
cashier,  whose  name  was  Thims,  took  me  for  a 
stroll  in  the  streets  and  in  the  court-yards  of  the 
principal  colleges.  Their  beauty  and  interest  were 
extreme;  it  was  impossible  to  see  them  without 
being  attracted  towards  them;  and  I  thought  to 
myself  that  he  must  be  indeed  an  ill-grained  and 
ungrateful  person  who  can  have  been  a  member  of 
one  of  these  colleges  without  retaining  an  affec- 
tionate feeling  towards  it  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
All  my  misgivings  gave  way  at  once  when  I  saw  the 
beauty  and  venerable  appearance  of  this  delightful 
city.  For  half-an-hour  I  forgot  both  myself  and 
Arowhena. 

After  supper  Mr.  Thims  told  me  a  good  deal 
about  the  system  of  education  which  is  here  prac- 
ticed. I  already  knew  a  part  of  what  I  heard,  but 
much  was  new  to  me,  and  I  obtained  a  better  idea 
of  the  Erewhonian  position  than  I  had  done 
hitherto :  nevertheless  there  were  parts  of  the  scheme 
of  which  I  could  not  comprehend  the  fitness,  al- 
though I  fully  admit  that  this  inability  was  probably 
the  result  of  my  having  been  trained  so  very  dif- 
ferently and  to  my  being  then  much  out  of  sorts. 

The  main  feature  in  their  system  is  the  promi- 
nence which  they  give  to  a  study  which  I  can  only 

214 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

translate  by  the  word  "hypothetics."  They  argue 
thus — that  to  teach  a  boy  merely  the  nature  of  the 
things  which  exist  in  the  world  around  him,  and 
about  which  he  will  have  to  be  conversant  during 
his  whole  life,  would  be  giving  him  but  a  narrow 
and  shallow  conception  of  the  universe,  which  it  is 
urged  might  contain  all  manner  of  things  which 
are  not  now  to  be  found  therein.  To  open  his  eyes 
to  these  possibilities,  and  so  to  prepare  him  for  all 
sorts  of  emergencies,  is  the  object  of  this  system 
of  hypothetics.  To  imagine  a  set  of  utterly  strange 
and  impossible  contingencies,  and  require  the 
youths  to  give  intelligent  answers  to  the  questions 
that  arise  therefrom,  is  reckoned  the  fittest  conceiv- 
able way  of  preparing  them  for  the  actual  conduct 
of  their  affairs  in  after  life. 

Thus  they  are  taught  what  is  called  the  hypo- 
thetical language  for  many  of  their  best  years — a 
language  which  was  originally  composed  at  a  time 
when  the  country  was  in  a  very  different  state  of 
civilization  to  what  it  is  at  present,  a  state  which 
has  long  since  disappeared  and  been  superseded. 
Many  valuable  maxims  and  noble  thoughts  which 
were  at  one  time  concealed  in  it  have  become  cur- 
rent in  their  modern  literature,  and  have  been  trans- 
lated over  and  over  again  into  the  language  now 
spoken.  Surely  then  it  would  seem  enough  that 
the  study  of  the  original  language  should  be  con- 
fined to  the  few  whose  instincts  led  them  naturally 
to  pursue  it. 

But  the  Erewhonians  think  differently;  the  store 
215 


Erewhon 


they  set  by  this  hypothetical  language  can  hardly 
be  believed;  they  will  even  give  any  one  a  main- 
tenance for  life  if  he  attains  a  considerable  pro- 
ficiency in  the  study  of  it;  nay,  they  will  spend 
years  in  learning  to  translate  some  of  their  own 
good  poetry  into  the  hypothetical  language — to  do 
so  with  fluency  being  reckoned  a  distinguishing 
mark  of  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman.  Heaven  forbid 
that  I  should  be  flippant,  but  it  appeared  to  me  to 
be  a  wanton  waste  of  good  human  energy  that  men 
should  spend  years  and  years  in  the  perfection  of 
so  barren  an  exercise,  when  their  own  civilization 
presented  problems  by  the  hundred  which  cried 
aloud  for  solution  and  would  have  paid  the  solver 
handsomely;  but  people  know  their  own  affairs 
best.  If  the  youths  chose  it  for  themselves  I  should 
have  wondered  less ;  but  they  do  not  choose  it ;  they 
have  it  thrust  upon  them,  and  for  the  most  part 
are  disinclined  towards  it.  I  can  only  say  that  all 
I  heard  in  defense  of  the  system  was  insufficient 
to  make  me  think  very  highly  of  its  advantages. 

The  arguments  in  favor  of  the  deliberate  develop- 
ment of  the  unreasoning  faculties  were  much  more 
cogent.  But  here  they  depart  from  the  principles 
on  which  they  justify  their  study  of  hypothetics;  for 
they  base  the  importance  which  they  assign  to  hy- 
pothetics upon  the  fact  of  their  being  a  prepara- 
tion for  the  extraordinary,  while  their  study  of  Un- 
reason rests  upon  its  developing  those  faculties 
which  are  required  for  the  daily  conduct  of  affairs. 
Hence   their  professorships  of   Inconsistency  and 

216 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

Evasion,  in  both  of  which  studies  the  youths  are 
examined  before  being  allowed  to  proceed  to  their 
degree  in  hypothetics.  The  more  earnest  and  con- 
scientious students  attain  to  a  proficiency  in  these 
subjects  which  is  quite  surprising;  there  is  hardly 
any  inconsistency  so  glaring  but  they  soon  learn  to 
defend  it,  or  injunction  so  clear  that  they  cannot 
find  some  pretext  for  disregarding  it. 

Life,  they  urge,  would  be  intolerable  if  men  were 
to  be  guided  in  all  they  did  by  reason  and  reason 
only.  Reason  betrays  men  into  the  drawing  of 
hard  and  fast  lines,  and  to  the  defining  by  language 
• — language  being  like  the  sun,  which  rears  and  then 
scorches.  Extremes  are  alone  logical,  but  they  are 
always  absurd ;  the  mean  is  illogical,  but  an  illogi- 
cal mean  is  better  than  the  sheer  absurdity  of  an 
extreme.  There  are  no  follies  and  no  unreason- 
ablenesses so  great  as  those  which  can  apparently 
be  irrefragably  defended  by  reason  itself,  and  there 
is  hardly  an  error  into  which  men  may  not  easily 
be  led  if  they  base  their  conduct  upon  reason  only. 

Reason  might  very  possibly  abolish  the  double 
currency;  it  might  even  attack  the  personality  of 
Hope  and  Justice.  Besides,  people  have  such  a 
strong  natural  bias  towards  it  that  they  will  seek 
it  for  themselves  and  act  upon  it  quite  as  much  as 
or  more  than  is  good  for  them:  there  is  no  need 
of  encouraging  reason.  With  unreason  the  case 
is  different.  She  is  the  natural  complement  of  rea- 
son, without  whose  existence  reason  itself  were  non- 
existent. 

217 


Erewhon 


If,  then,  reason  would  be  non-existent  were  there 
no  such  thing  as  unreason,  surely  it  follows  that 
the  more  unreason  there  is,  the  more  reason  there 
must  be  also  ?  Hence  the  necessity  for  the  develop- 
ment of  unreason,  even  in  the  interests  of  reason 
herself.  The  Professors  of  Unreason  deny  that 
they  undervalue  reason :  none  can  be  more  convinced 
than  they  are,  that  if  the  double  currency  cannot 
be  rigorously  deduced  as  a  necessary  consequence  of 
human  reason,  the  double  currency  should  cease 
forthwith;  but  they  say  that  it  must  be  deduced 
from  no  narrow  and  exclusive  view  of  reason 
which  should  deprive  that  admirable  faculty  of  the 
one-half  of  its  own  existence.  Unreason  is  a  part 
of  reason ;  it  must  therefore  be  allowed  its  full  share 
in  stating  the  initial  conditions. 


218 


CHAPTER     XXII 

the  colleges  of  unreason — continued 

Of  genius  they  make  no  account,  for  they  say  that 
every  one  is  a  genius,  more  or  less.  No  one  is 
so  physically  sound  that  no  part  of  him  will  be 
even  a  little  unsound,  and  no  one  is  so  diseased 
but  that  some  part  of  him  will  be  healthy — so  no 
man  is  so  mentally  and  morally  sound,  but  that  he 
will  be  in  part  both  mad  and  wicked;  and  no  man 
is  so  mad  and  wicked  but  he  will  be  sensible  and 
honorable  in  part  In  like  manner  there  is  no  genius 
who  is  not  also  a  fool,  and  no  fool  who  is  not  also 
a  genius. 

When  I  talked  about  originality  and  genius  to 
some  gentlemen  whom  I  met  at  a  supper  party 
given  by  Mr.  Thims  in  my  honor,  and  said  that 
original  thought  ought  to  be  encouraged,  I  had  to 
eat  my  words  at  once.  Their  view  evidently  was 
that  genius  was  like  offenses — needs  must  that  it 
come,  but  woe  unto  that  man  through  whom  it 
comes.  A  man's  business,  they  hold,  is  to  think 
as  his  neighbors  do,  for  Heaven  help  him  if  he 
thinks  good  what  they  count  bad.  And  really  it  is 
hard  to  see  how  the  Erewhonian  theory  differs  from 
our  own,  for  the  word  "idiot"  only  means  a  person 
who  forms  his  opinions  for  himself. 

219 


Erewhon 


The  venerable  Professor  of  Worldly  Wisdom,  a 
man  verging  on  eighty  but  still  hale,  spoke  to  me 
very  seriously  on  this  subject  in  consequence  of  the 
few  words  that  I  had  imprudently  let  fall  in  defense 
of  genius.  He  was  one  of  those  who  carried  most 
weight  in  the  university,  and  had  the  reputation 
of  having  done  more  perhaps  than  any  other  living 
man  to  suppress  any  kind  of  originality. 

"It  is  not  our  business/'  he  said,  "to  help  students 
to  think  for  themselves.  Surely  this  is  the  very 
last  thing  which  one  who  wishes  them  well  should 
encourage  them  to  do.  Our  duty  is  to  ensure  that 
they  shall  think  as  we  do,  or  at  any  rate,  as  we 
hold  it  expedient  to  say  we  do."  In  some  respects, 
however,  he  was  thought  to  hold  somewhat  radical 
opinions,  for  he  was  President  of  the  Society  for 
the  Suppression  of  Useless  Knowledge,  and  for  the 
Completer  Obliteration  of  the  Past. 

As  regards  the  tests  that  a  youth  must  pass  be- 
fore he  can  get  a  degree,  I  found  that  they  have  no 
class  lists,  and  discourage  anything  like  competition 
among  the  students ;  this,  indeed,  they  regard  as  self- 
seeking  and  unneighborly.  The  examinations  are 
conducted  by  way  of  papers  written  by  the  candi- 
date on  set  subjects,  some  of  which  are  known  to 
him  beforehand,  while  others  are  devised  with  a 
view  of  testing  his  general  capacity  and  savoir  faire. 

My  friend  the  Professor  of  Worldly  Wisdom  was 
the  terror  of  the  greater  number  of  students ;  and, 
so  far  as  I  could  judge,  he  very  well  might  be,  for 
he  had  taken  his  Professorship  more  seriously  than 

220 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

any  of  the  other  Professors  had  done.  I  heard 
of  his  having  plucked  one  poor  fellow  for  want  of 
sufficient  vagueness  in  his  saving  clauses  paper. 
Another  was  sent  down  for  having  written  an  arti- 
cle on  a  scientific  subject  without  having  made  free 
enough  use  of  the  words  "carefully,"  "patiently," 
and  "earnestly."  One  man  was  refused  a  degree  for 
being  too  often  and  too  seriously  in  the  right,  while 
a  few  days  before  I  came  a  whole  batch  had  been 
plucked  for  insufficient  distrust  of  printed  matter. 

About  this  there  was  just  then  rather  a  ferment, 
for  it  seems  that  the  Professor  had  written  an  ar- 
ticle in  the  leading  university  magazine,  which  was 
well  known  to  be  by  him,  and  which  abounded  in  all 
sorts  of  plausible  blunders.  He  then  set  a  paper 
which  afforded  the  examinees  an  opportunity  of  re- 
peating these  blunders — which,  believing  the  article 
to  be  by  their  own  examiner,  they  of  course  did. 
The  Professor  plucked  every  single  one  of  them, 
but  his  action  was  considered  to  have  been  not  quite 
handsome. 

I  told  them  of  Homer's  noble  line  to  the  effect 
that  a  man  should  strive  ever  to  be  foremost  and 
in  all  things  to  outvie  his  peers ;  but  they  said  that 
no  wonder  the  countries  in  which  such  a  detestable 
maxim  was  held  in  admiration  were  always  flying 
at  one  another's  throats. 

"Why,"  asked  one  Professor,  "should  a  man  want 
to  be  better  than  his  neighbors?  Let  him  be  thank- 
ful if  he  is  no  worse." 

I  ventured  feebly  to  say  that  I  did  not  see  how 
221 


Erewhon 


progress  could  be  made  in  any  art  or  science,  or 
indeed  in  anything  at  all,  without  more  or  less  self- 
seeking,  and  hence  unamiability. 

"Of  course  it  cannot,"  said  the  Professor,  "and 
therefore  we  object  to  progress." 

After  which  there  was  no  more  to  be  said.  Later 
on,  however,  a  young  Professor  took  me  aside  and 
said  he  did  not  think  I  quite  understood  their  views 
about  progress. 

"We  like  progress,"  he  said,  "but  it  must  com- 
mend itself  to  the  common  sense  of  the  people.  If 
a  man  gets  to  know  more  than  his  neighbors  he 
should  keep  his  knowledge  to  himself  till  he  has 
sounded  them,  and  seen  whether  they  agree,  or 
are  likely  to  agree  with  him.  He  said  it  was  as  im- 
moral to  be  too  far  in  front  of  one's  own  age,  as 
to  lag  too  far  behind  it.  If  a  man  can  carry  his 
neighbors  with  him,  he  may  say  what  he  likes;  but 
if  not,  what  insult  can  be  more  gratuitous  than  the 
telling  them  what  they  do  not  want  to  know?  A 
man  should  remember  that  intellectual  over-indul- 
gence is  one  of  the  most  insidious  and  disgraceful 
forms  that  excess  can  take.  Granted  that  every  one 
should  exceed  more  or  less,  inasmuch  as  absolutely 
perfect  sanity  would  drive  any  man  mad  the  moment 
he  reached  it,  but  ..." 

He  was  now  warming  to  his  subject  and  I  was 
beginning  to  wonder  how  I  should  get  rid  of  him, 
when  the  party  broke  up,  and  though  I  promised 
to  call  on  him  before  I  left,  I  was  unfortunately 
prevented  from  doing  so. 

222 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

I  have  now  said  enough  to  give  English  readers 
some  idea  of  the  strange  views  which  the  Ere- 
whonians  hold  concerning  unreason,  hypothetics, 
and  education  generally.  In  many  respects  they 
were  sensible  enough,  but  I  could  not  get  over  the 
hypothetics,  especially  the  turning  their  own  good 
poetry  into  the  hypothetical  language.  In  the  course 
of  my  stay  I  met  one  youth  who  told  me  that  for 
fourteen  years  the  hypothetical  language  had  been 
almost  the  only  thing  that  he  had  been  taught,  al- 
though he  had  never  (to  his  credit,  as  it  seemed  to 
me)  shown  the  slightest  proclivity  towards  it,  while 
he  had  been  endowed  with  not  inconsiderable  abil- 
ity for  several  other  branches  of  human  learning. 
He  assured  me  that  he  would  never  open  another 
hypothetical  book  after  he  had  taken  his  degree, 
but  would  follow  out  the  bent  of  his  own  inclina- 
tions. This  was  well  enough,  but  who  could  give 
him  his  fourteen  years  back  again  ? 

I  sometimes  wondered  how  it  was  that  the  mis- 
chief done  was  not  more  clearly  perceptible,  and 
that  the  young  men  and  women  grew  up  as  sen- 
sible and  goodly  as  they  did,  in  spite  of  the  at- 
tempts almost  deliberately  made  to  warp  and  stunt 
their  growth.  Some  doubtless  received  damage, 
from  which  they  suffered  to  their  life's  end;  but 
many  seemed  little  or  none  the  worse,  and  some,  al- 
most the  better.  The  reason  would  seem  to  be  that 
the  natural  instinct  of  the  lads  in  most  cases  so 
absolutely  rebelled  against  their  training,  that  do 
what  the  teachers  might  they  could  never  get  them 

223 


Erewhon 


to  pay  serious  heed  to  it.  The  consequence  was 
that  the  boys  only  lost  their  time,  and  not  so  much 
of  this  as  might  have  been  expected,  for  in  their 
hours  of  leisure  they  were  actively  engaged  in  ex- 
ercises and  sports  which  developed  their  physical 
nature,  and  made  them  at  any  rate  strong  and 
healthy. 

Moreover  those  who  had  any  special  tastes  could 
not  be  restrained  from  developing  them :  they  would 
learn  what  they  wanted  to  learn  and  liked,  in  spite 
of  obstacles  which  seemed  rather  to  urge  them  on 
than  to  discourage  them,  while  for  those  who  had 
no  special  capacity,  the  loss  of  time  was  of  compara- 
tively little  moment ;  but  in  spite  of  these  alleviations 
of  the  mischief,  I  am  sure  that  much  harm  was 
done  to  the  children  of  the  sub-wealthy  classes;  by 
the  system  which  passes  current  among  the  Ere- 
whonians  as  education.  The  poorest  children  suf- 
fered least — if  destruction  and  death  have  heard 
the  sound  of  wisdom,  to  a  certain  extent  poverty  has 
done  so  also. 

And  yet  perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  better  for  a  coun- 
try that  its  seats  of  learning  should  do  more  to 
suppress  mental  growth  than  to  encourage  it.  Were 
it  not  for  a  certain  priggishness  which  these  places 
infuse  into  so  great  a  number  of  their  alumni,  genu- 
ine work  would  become  dangerously  common.  It 
is  essential  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  what  is 
said  or  done  in  the  world  should  be  so  ephemeral  as 
to  take  itself  away  quickly;  it  should  keep  good  for 
twenty- four  hours,  or  even  twice  as  long,  but  it 

224 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

should  not  be  good  enough  a  week  hence  to  prevent 
people  from  going  on  to  something  else.  No  doubt 
the  marvelous  development  of  journalism  in  Eng- 
land, as  also  the  fact  that  our  seats  of  learning 
aim  rather  at  fostering  mediocrity  than  anything 
higher,  is  due  to  our  subconscious  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  it  is  even  more  necessary  to  check  ex- 
uberance of  mental  development  than  to  encourage 
it.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  is  what  our 
academic  bodies  do,  and  they  do  it  the  more  effec- 
tually because  they  do  it  only  subconsciously.  They 
think  they  are  advancing  healthy  mental  assimila- 
tion and  digestion,  whereas  in  reality  they  are  little 
better  than  cancer  in  the  stomach. 

Let  me  return,  however,  to  the  Erewhonians. 
Nothing  surprised  me  more  than  to  see  the  occa- 
sional flashes  of  common  sense  with  which  one 
branch  of  study  or  another  was  lit  up,  while  not  a 
single  ray  fell  upon  so  many  others.  I  was  particu- 
larly struck  with  this  on  strolling  into  the  Art  School 
of  the  University.  Here  I  found  that  the  course 
of  study  was  divided  into  two  branches — the  prac- 
tical and  the  commercial — no  student  being  per- 
mitted to  continue  his  studies  in  the  actual  practice 
of  the  art  he  had  taken  up,  unless  he  made  equal 
progress  in  its  commercial  history. 

Thus  those  who  were  studying  painting  were  ex- 
amined at  frequent  intervals  in  the  prices  which  all 
the  leading  pictures  of  the  last  fifty  or  a  hundred 
years  had  realized,  and  in  the  fluctuations  in  their 
values  when   (as  often  happened)   they  had  been 

225 


Erewhon 


sold  and  resold  three  or  four  times.  The  artist, 
they  contend,  is  a  dealer  in  pictures,  and  it  is  as 
important  for  him  to  learn  how  to  adapt  his  wares 
to  the  market,  and  to  know  approximately  what 
kind  of  a  picture  will  fetch  how  much,  as  it  is  for 
him  to  be  able  to  paint  the  picture.  This,  I  sup- 
pose, is  what  the  French  mean  by  laying  so  much 
stress  upon  "values." 

As  regards  the  city  itself,  the  more  I  saw  the 
more  enchanted  I  became.  I  dare  not  trust  my- 
self with  any  description  of  the  exquisite  beauty  of 
the  different  colleges,  and  their  walks  and  gardens. 
Truly  in  these  things  alone  there  must  be  a  hallow- 
ing and  refining  influence  which  is  in  itself  half  an 
education,  and  which  no  amount  of  error  can  wholly 
spoil.  I  was  introduced  to  many  of  the  Professors, 
who  showed  me  every  hospitality  and  kindness; 
nevertheless  I  could  hardly  avoid  a  sort  of  suspi- 
cion that  some  of  those  whom  I  was  taken  to  see 
had  been  so  long  engrossed  in  their  own  study  of 
hypothetics  that  they  had  become  the  exact  antithe- 
ses of  the  Athenians  in  the  days  of  St  Paul;  for 
whereas  the  Athenians  spent  their  lives  in  nothing 
save  to  see  and  to  hear  some  new  thing,  there  were 
some  here  who  seemed  to  devote  themselves  to  the 
avoidance  of  every  opinion  with  which  they  were 
not  perfectly  familiar,  and  regarded  their  own  brains 
as  a  sort  of  sanctuary,  to  which  if  an  opinion  had 
once  resorted,  none  other  was  to  attack  it. 

I  should  warn  the  reader,  however,  that  I  was 
rarely  sure  what  the  men  whom  I  met  while  stay- 

226 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

ing  with  Mr.  Thims  really  meant;  for  there  was 
no  getting  anything  out  of  them  if  they  scented 
even  a  suspicion  that  they  might  be  what  they  call 
"giving  themselves  away."  As  there  is  hardly  any 
subject  on  which  this  suspicion  cannot  arise,  I 
found  it  difficult  to  get  definite  opinions  from  any 
of  them,  except  on  such  subjects  as  the  weather, 
eating  and  drinking,  holiday  excursions,  or  games 
of  skill. 

If  they  cannot  wriggle  out  of  expressing  an  opin- 
ion of  some  sort,  they  will  commonly  retail  those 
of  some  one  who  has  already  written  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  conclude  by  saying  that  though  they  quite 
admit  that  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  what 
the  writer  has  said,  there  are  many  points  on  which 
they  are  unable  to  agree  with  him.  Which  these 
points  were,  I  invariably  found  myself  unable  to 
determine ;  indeed,  it  seemed  to  be  counted  the  per- 
fection of  scholarship  and  good  breeding  among 
them  not  to  have — much  less  to  express — an  opin- 
ion on  any  subject  on  which  it  might  prove  later 
that  they  had  been  mistaken.  The  art  of  sitting 
gracefully  on  a  fence  has  never,  I  should  think, 
been  brought  to  greater  perfection  than  at  the  Ere- 
whonian  Colleges  of  Unreason. 

Even  when,  wriggle  as  they  may,  they  find  them- 
selves pinned  down  to  some  expression  of  definite 
opinion,  as  often  as  not  they  will  argue  in  support 
of  what  they  perfectly  well  know  to  be  untrue.  I 
repeatedly  met  with  reviews  and  articles  even  in 
their  best  journals,  between  the  lines  of  which  I 

227 


Erewhon 


had  little  difficulty  in  detecting  a  sense  exactly  con- 
trary to  the  one  ostensibly  put  forward.  So  well 
is  this  understood,  that  a  man  must  be  a  mere  tyro 
in  the  arts  of  Erewhonian  polite  society,  unless  he 
instinctively  suspects  a  hidden  "yea"  in  every  "nay" 
that  meets  him.  Granted  that  it  comes  to  much 
the  same  in  the  end,  for  it  does  not  matter  whether 
"yea"  is  called  "yea"  or  "nay,"  so  long  as  it  is  un- 
derstood which  it  is  to  be ;  but  our  own  more  direct 
way  of  calling  a  spade  a  spade,  rather  than  a  rake, 
with  the  intention  that  every  one  should  understand 
it  as  a  spade,  seems  more  satisfactory.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  Erewhonian  system  lends  itself  bet- 
ter to  the  suppression  of  that  downrigktness  which 
it  seems  the  express  aim  of  Erewhonian  philosophy 
to  discountenance. 

However  this  may  be,  the  fear-of-giving-them- 
selves-away  disease  was  fatal  to  the  intelligence  of 
those  infected  by  it,  and  almost  every  one  at  the 
Colleges  of  Unreason  had  caught  it  to  a  greater  or 
less  degree.  After  a  few  years  atrophy  of  the  opin- 
ions invariably  supervened,  and  the  sufferer  became 
stone  dead  to  everything  except  the  more  super- 
ficial aspects  of  those  material  objects  with  which 
he  came  most  in  contact.  The  expression  on  the 
faces  of  these  people  was  repellent;  they  did  not, 
however,  seem  particularly  unhappy,  for  they  none 
of  them  had  the  faintest  idea  that  they  were  in 
reality  more  dead  than  alive.  No  cure  for  this  dis- 
gusting fear-of-giving-themselves-away  disease  has 
yet  been  discovered. 

228 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

It  was  during  my  stay  in  City  of  the  Colleges  of 
Unreason — a  city  whose  Erewhonian  name  is  so 
cacophonous  that  I  refrain  from  giving  it — that  I 
learned  the  particulars  of  the  revolution  which  had 
ended  in  the  destruction  of  so  many  of  the  me- 
chanical inventions  which  were  formerly  in  com- 
mon use. 

Mr.  Thims  took  me  to  the  rooms  of  a  gentleman 
who  had  a  great  reputation  for  learning,  but  who 
was  also,  so  Mr.  Thims  told  me,  rather  a  dangerous 
person,  inasmuch  as  he  had  attempted  to  introduce 
an  adverb  into  the  hypothetical  language.  He  had 
heard  of  my  watch  and  been  exceedingly  anxious 
to  see  me,  for  he  was  accounted  the  most  learned 
antiquary  in  Erewhon  on  the  subject  of  mechanical 
lore.  We  fell  to  talking  upon  the  subject,  and 
when  I  left  he  gave  me  a  reprinted  copy  of  the 
work  which  brought  the  revolution  about. 

It  had  taken  place  some  five  hundred  years  be- 
fore my  arrival :  people  had  long  become  thoroughly 
used  to  the  change,  although  at  the  time  that  it  was 
made  the  country  was  plunged  into  the  deepest  mis- 
ery, and  a  reaction  which  followed  had  very  nearly 
proved  successful.  Civil  war  raged  for  many  years, 
and  is  said  to  have  reduced  the  number  of  the  in- 
habitants by  one-half.  The  parties  were  styled  the 
machinists  and  the  anti-mac&inists,  and  in  the  end, 
as  I  have  said  already,  the  latter  got  the  victory, 
treating  their  opponents  with  such  unparalleled  se- 
verity that  they  extirpated  every  trace  of  opposition. 

The  wonder  was  that  they  allowed  any  mechani- 
229 


Erewhon 


cal  appliances  to  remain  in  the  kingdom,  neither  do 
I  believe  that  they  would  have  done  so,  had  not 
the  Professors  of  Inconsistency  and  Evasion  made 
a  stand  against  the  carrying  of  the  new  principles 
to  their  legitimate  conclusions.  These  Professors, 
moreover,  insisted  that  during  the  struggle  the  anti- 
machinists  should  use  every  known  improvement  in 
the  art  of  war,  and  several  new  weapons,  offensive 
and  defensive,  were  invented,  while  it  was  in  prog- 
ress. I  was  surprised  at  there  remaining  so  many 
mechanical  specimens  as  are  seen  in  the  museums, 
and  at  students  having  rediscovered  their  past  uses 
so  completely ;  for  at  the  time  of  "the  revolution 
the  victors  wrecked  all  the  more  complicated  ma- 
chines, and  burned  all  treatises  on  mechanics,  and 
all  engineers*  workshops — thus,  so  they  thought, 
cutting  the  mischief  out  root  and  branch,  at  an 
incalculable  cost  of  blood  and  treasure. 

Certainly  they  had  not  spared  their  labor,  but 
work  of  this  description  can  never  be  perfectly 
achieved,  and  when,  some  two  hundred  years  be- 
fore my  arrival,  all  passion  upon  the  subject  had 
cooled  down,  and  no  one  save  a  lunatic  would  have 
dreamed  of  reintroducing  forbidden  inventions,  the 
subject  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  curious  anti- 
quarian study,  like  that  of  some  long-forgotten  re- 
ligious practices  among  ourselves.  Then  came  the 
careful  search  for  whatever  fragments  could  be 
found,  and  for  any  machines  that  might  have  been 
hidden  away,  and  also  numberless  treatises  were 
written,  showing  what  the  functions  of  each  re- 

230 


Colleges  of  Unreason 

discovered  machine  had  been;  all  being  done  with 
no  idea  of  using  such  machinery  again,  but  with 
the  feelings  of  an  English  antiquarian  concerning 
Druidical  monuments  or  flint  arrow  heads. 

On  my  return  to  the  metropolis,  during  the  re- 
maining weeks  or  rather  days  of  my  sojourn  in  Ere- 
whon  I  made  a  resume  in  English  of  the  work  which 
brought  about  the  already  mentioned  revolution. 
My  ignorance  of  technical  terms  has  led  me  doubt- 
less into  many  errors,  and  I  have  occasionally,  where 
I  found  translation  impossible,  substituted  purely 
English  names  and  ideas  for  the  original  Erewhon- 
ian  ones,  but  the  reader  may  rely  on  my  general 
accuracy.  I  have  thought  it  best  to  insert  my  trans- 
lation here. 


231 


I  \  p  r  ER    XXIII 

I   BOOK  M  ICHINES 

Thi  ces:— "There  w  ne,  when 

the  earth  was  to  all  appearan 

;  of  animal  and  vegetable  d  when  ao 

:  round  ball  with  a  crust  gradu 
cooling      N Fow  it'  a  human  being 

earth  was  in  this  state  and  had  been  all 

bough  it  we  her  \\  >rl  :   » 

no  c  >ncern,  and  if  at  the  same  tune 
v  ignorant  of  all  p 
would  he  -  pronounced  it  impossible  that 

tsessed  j  like  c  »nsci<  us 

should  '  ....  cinder  which 

beholding?    Would  he  not  have  denied  that 
ined  any  iality  of  consciousness? 

Is   it 

not  |  I  there  may  be  t\  new 

•.t  for  consciousness,  though  we 
-  gns  of  them  -  ent? 

"Again.    O  .  like  the  ■ 

.  me  term,  having  been  once  a  new 
as  we  can  see,  subsequent 
■  to  an  individual  center  of 

system  (which  we  see  existii  (ants 

- .  , 


Book  of  the  Machine 

I  be 

■ 

"It 

- 
- 

upoi 

animal  life  is  the 

d  be 
■  ty  be 

i 

| 


Erewhon 


few  hundred  years,  and  note  how  slowly  the  animal 
and  vegetable  kingdoms  are  advancing.  The  more 
highly  organized  machines  are  creatures  not  so 
much  of  yesterday,  as  of  the  last  five  minutes,  so  to 
speak,  in  comparison  with  past  time.  Assume  for 
the  sake  of  argument  that  conscious  beings  have 
existed  for  some  twenty  million  years:  see  what 
strides  machines  have  made  in  the  last  thousand! 
May  not  the  world  last  twenty  million  years  longer  ? 
If  so,  what  will  they  not  in  the  end  become?  Is  it 
not  safer  to  nip  the  mischief  in  the  bud  and  to 
forbid  them  further  progress? 

"But  who  can  say  that  the  vapor  engine  has  not 
a  kind  of  consciousness  ?  Where  does  consciousness 
begin,  and  where  end?  Who  can  draw  the  line? 
Who  can  draw  any  line?  Is  not  everything  inter- 
woven with  everything?  Is  not  machinery  linked 
with  animal  life  in  an  infinite  variety  of  ways?  The 
shell  of  a  hen's  egg  is  made  of  a  delicate  white 
ware  and  is  a  machine  as  much  as  an  egg-cup  is :  the 
shell  is  a  device  for  holding  the  egg,  as  much  as  the 
egg-cup  for  holding  the  shell :  both  are  phases  of  the 
same  function;  the  hen  makes  the  shell  in  her  in- 
side, but  it  is  pure  pottery.  She  makes  her  nest 
outside  of  herself  for  convenience'  sake,  but  the 
nest  is  not  more  of  a  machine  than  the  egg-shell  is. 
A  'machine'  is  only  a  'device.'  " 

Then  returning  to  consciousness,  and  endeavor- 
ing to  detect  its  earliest  manifestations,  the  writer 
continued : — 

"There  is  a  kind  of  plant  that  eats  organic  food 
234 


Book  of  the  Machines 

with  its  flowers:  when  a  fly  settles  upon  the  blos- 
som, the  petals  close  upon  it  and  hold  it  fast  till 
the  plant  has  absorbed  the  insect  into  its  system; 
but  they  will  close  on  nothing  but  what  is  good  to 
eat;  of  a  drop  of  rain  or  a  piece  of  stick  they  will 
take  no  notice.  Curious!  that  so  unconscious  a 
thing  should  have  such  a  keen  eye  to  its  own  in- 
terest. If  this  is  unconsciousness,  where  is  the  use 
of  consciousness? 

"Shall  we  say  that  the  plant  does  not  know  what 
it  is  doing  merely  because  it  has  no  eyes,  or  ears, 
or  brains?  If  we  say  that  it  acts  mechanically,  and 
mechanically  only,  -shall  we  not  be  forced  to  admit 
that  sundry  other  and  apparently  very  deliberate 
actions  are  also  mechanical?  If  it  seems  to  us  that 
the  plant  kills  and  eats  a  fly  mechanically,  may  it 
not  seem  to  the  plant  that  a  man  must  kill  and  eat 
a  sheep  mechanically? 

"But  it  may  be  said  that  the  plant  is  void  of 
reason,  because  the  growth  of  a  plant  is  an  involun- 
tary growth.  Given  earth,  air,  and  due  temperature, 
the  plant  must  grow :  it  is  like  a  clock,  which  being 
once  wound  up  will  go  till  it  is  stopped  or  run  down  : 
it  is  like  the  wind  blowing  on  the  sails  of  a  ship 
— the  ship  must  go  when  the  wind  blows  it.  But 
can  a  healthy  boy  help  growing  if  he  have  good 
meat  and  drink  and  clothing  ?  can  anything  help  go- 
ing as  long  as  it  is  wound  up,  or  go  on  after  it  is 
run  down  ?  Is  there  not  a  winding  up  process  every- 
where ? 

235 


Erewhon 


"Even  a  potato  x  in  a  dark  cellar  has  a  certain 
low  cunning  about  him  which  serves  him  in  excel- 
lent stead.  He  knows  perfectly  well  what  he  wants 
and  how  to  get  it.  He  sees  the  light  coming  from 
the  cellar  window  and  sends  his  shoots  crawling 
straight  thereto :  they  will  crawl  along  the  floor  and 
up  the  wall  and  out  at  the  cellar  window;  if  there 
be  a  little  earth  anywhere  on  the  journey  he  will 
find  it  and  use  it  for  his  own  ends.  What  delibera- 
tion he  may  exercise  in  the  matter  of  his  roots 
when  he  is  planted  in  the  earth  is  a  thing  unknown 
to  us,  but  we  can  imagine  him  saying,  T  will  have  a 
tuber  here  and  a  tuber  there,  and  I  will  suck  what- 
soever advantage  I  can  from  all  my  surroundings. 
This  neighbor  I  will  overshadow,  and  that  I  will 
undermine ;  and  what  I  can  do  shall  be  the  limit  of 
what  I  will  do.  He  that  is  stronger  and  better 
placed  than  I  shall  overcome  me,  and  him  that  is 
weaker  I  will  overcome.' 

"The  potato  says  these  things  by  doing  them, 
which  is  the  best  of  languages.  What  is  conscious- 
ness if  this  is  not  consciousness?  We  find  it  dif- 
ficult to  sympathize  with  the  emotions  of  a  potato; 
so  we  do  with  those  of  an  oyster.  Neither  of  these 
things  makes  a  noise  on  being  boiled  or  opened, 
and  noise  appeals  to  us  more  strongly  than  any- 

1  The  root  alluded  to  is  not  the  potato  of  our  own  gardens, 
but  a  plant  so  near  akin  to  it  that  I  have  ventured  to  translate 
it  thus.  Apropos  of  its  intelligence,  had  the  writer  known 
Butler  he  would  probably  have  said — 

"He  knows  what's  what,  and  that's  as  high, 
As  metaphysic  wit  can  fly." 

236 


Book  of  the  Machines 

thing  else,  because  we  make  so  much  about  our  own 
sufferings.  Since,  then,  they  do  not  annoy  us  by 
any  expression  of  pain  we  call  them  emotionless; 
and  so  qua  mankind  they  are;  but  mankind  is  not 
everybody. 

"If  it  be  urged  that  the  action  of  the  potato  is 
chemical  and  mechanical  only,  and  that  it  is  due 
to  the  chemical  and  mechanical  effects  of  light  and 
heat,  the  answer  would  seem  to  lie  in  an  inquiry 
whether  every  sensation  is  not  chemical  and  me- 
chanical in  its  operation?  whether  those  things 
which  we  deem  most  purely  spiritual  are  anything 
but  disturbances  of  equilibrium  in  an  infinite  series 
of  levers,  beginning  with  those  that  are  too  small 
for  microscopic  detection,  and  going  up  to  the  hu- 
man arm  and  the  appliances  which  it  makes  use  of  ? 
whether  there  be  not  a  molecular  action  of  thought, 
whence  a  dynamical  theory  of  the  passions  shall 
be  deducible?  Whether  strictly  speaking  we  should 
not  ask  what  kind  of  levers  a  man  is  made  of  rather 
than  what  is  his  temperament  ?  How  are  they  bal- 
anced? How  much  of  such  and  such  will  it  take 
to  weigh  them  down  so  as  to  make  him  do  so  and 
so?" 

The  writer  went  on  to  say  that  he  anticipated  a 
time  when  it  would  be  possible,  by  examining  a  sin- 
gle hair  with  a  powerful  microscope,  to  know 
whether  its  owner  could  be  insulted  with  impunity. 
He  then  became  more  and  more  obscure,  so  that  I 
was  obliged  to  give  up  all  attempt  at  translation; 
neither  did  I  follow  the  drift  of  his  argument.    On 

237 


Erewhon 


coming  to  the  next  part  which  I  could  construe,  I 
found  that  he  had  changed  his  ground. 

"Either,"  he  proceeds,  "a  great  deal  of  action  that 
has  been  called  purely  mechanical  and  unconscious 
must  be  admitted  to  contain  more  elements  of  con- 
sciousness than  has  been  allowed  hitherto  (and  in 
this  case  germs  of  consciousness  will  be  found  in 
many  actions  of  the  higher  machines) — Or  (assum- 
ing the  theory  of  evolution  but  at  the  same  time 
denying  the  consciousness  of  vegetable  and  crystal- 
line action)  the  race  of  man  has  descended  from 
things  which  had  no  consciousness  at  all.  In  this 
case  there  is  no  a  priori  improbability  in  the  descent 
of  conscious  (and  more  than  conscious)  machines 
from  those  which  now  exist,  except  that  which  is 
suggested  by  the  apparent  absence  of  anything  like 
a  reproductive  system  in  the  mechanical  kingdom. 
This  absence  however  is  only  apparent,  as  I  shall 
presently  show. 

"Do  not  let  me  be  misunderstood  as  living  in 
fear  of  any  actually  existing  machine ;  there  is  prob- 
ably no  known  machine  which  is  more  than  a  pro- 
totype of  future  mechanical  life.  The  present  ma- 
chines are  to  the  future  as  the  early  Saurians  to 
man.  The  largest  of  them  will  probably  greatly 
diminish  in  size.  Some  of  the  lowest  vertebrata 
attained  a  much  greater  bulk  than  has  descended  to 
their  more  highly  organized  living  representatives, 
and  in  like  manner  a  diminution  in  the  size  of  ma- 
chines has  often  attended  their  development  and 
progress. 

238 


Book  of  the  Machines 

'Take  the  watch,  for  example ;  examine  its  beau- 
tiful structure;  observe  the  intelligent  play  of  the 
minute  members  which  compose  it:  yet  this  little 
creature  is  but  a  development  of  the  cumbrous  clocks 
that  preceded  it;  it  is  no  deterioration  from  them. 
A  day  may  come  when  clocks,  which  certainly  at 
the  present  time  are  not  diminishing  in  bulk,  will 
be  superseded  owing  to  the  universal  use  of  watches, 
in  which  case  they  will  become  as  extinct  as  ichthyo- 
sauri, while  the  watch,  whose  tendency  has  for  some 
years  been  to  decrease  in  size  rather  than  the  con- 
trary, will  remain  the  only  existing  type  of  an  extinct 
race. 

"But  returning  to  the  argument,  I  wrould  repeat 
that  I  fear  none  of  the  existing  machines;  what  I 
fear  is  the  extraordinary  rapidity  with  which  they 
are  becoming  something  very  different  to  what  they 
are  at  present.  No  class  of  beings  have  in  any  time 
past  made  so  rapid  a  movement  forward.  Should 
not  that  movement  be  jealously  watched,  and 
checked  while  we  can  still  check  it?  And  is  it  not 
necessary  for  this  end  to  destroy  the  more  advanced 
of  the  machines  which  are  in  use  at  present,  though 
it  is  admitted  that  they  are  in  themselves  harm- 
less? 

"As  yet  the  machines  receive  their  impressions 
through  the  agency  of  man's  senses:  one  traveling 
machine  calls  to  another  in  a  shrill  accent  of  alarm 
and  the  other  instantly  retires ;  but  it  is  through  the 
ears  of  the  driver  that  the  voice  of  the  one  has  acted 
upon  the  other.     Had  there  been  no  driver,  the 

239 


Erewhon 


callee  would  have  been  deaf  to  the  caller.  There 
was  a  time  when  it  must  have  seemed  highly  im- 
probable that  machines  should  learn  to  make  their 
wants  known  by  sound,  even  through  the  ears  of 
man;  may  we  not  conceive,  then,  that  a  day  will 
come  when  those  ears  will  be  no  longer  needed, 
and  the  hearing  will  be  done  by  the  delicacy  of  the 
machine's  own  construction? — when  its  language 
shall  have  been  developed  from  the  cry  of  animals 
to  a  speech  as  intricate  as  our  own  ? 

"It  is  possible  that  by  that  time  children  will 
learn  the  differential  calculus — as  they  learn  now  to 
speak — from  their  mothers  and  nurses,  or  that  they 
may  talk  in  the  hypothetical  language,  and  work 
rule  of  three  sums,  as  soon  as  they  are  born;  but 
this  is  not  probable;  we  cannot  calculate  on  any 
'.  orresponding  advance  in  man's  intellectual  or 
physical  powers  which  shall  be  a  set-off  against  the 
far  greater  development  which  seems  in  store  for 
t!le  machines.  Some  people  may  say  that  man's 
moral  influence  will  suffice  to  rule  them ;  but  I  can- 
not think  it  will  ever  be  safe  to  repose  much  trust 
in  the  moral  sense  of  any  machine. 

"Again,  might  not  the  glory  of  the  machines 
consist  in  their  being  without  this  same  boasted 
gift  of  language?  'Silence,'  it  has  been  said  by  one 
writer,  'is  a  virtue  which  renders  us  agreeable  to 
our  fellow-creatures.' " 


240 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

the  machines — continued 

''But  other  questions  come  upon  us.  What  is  a 
man's  eye  but  a  machine  for  the  little  creature  that 
sits  behind  in  his  brain  to  look  through?  A  dead 
eye  is  nearly  as  good  as  a  living  one  for  some  time 
after  the  man  is  dead.  It  is  not  the  eye  that  cannot 
see,  but  the  restless  one  that  cannot  see  through  it. 
Is  it  man's  eyes,  or  is  it  the  big  seeing-engine  which 
has  revealed  to  us  the  existence  of  worlds  beyond 
worlds  into  infinity?  What  has  made  man  familiar 
with  the  scenery  of  the  moon,  the  spots  on  the  sun, 
or  the  geography  of  the  planets?  He  is  at  the 
mercy  of  the  seeing-engine  for  these  things,  and  is 
powerless  unless  he  tack  it  on  to  his  own  identity, 
and  make  it  part  and  parcel  of  himself.  Or,  again, 
is  it  the  eye,  or  the  little  see-engine,  which  has 
shown  us  the  existence  of  infinitely  minute  organ- 
isms which  swarm  unsuspected  around  us? 

"And  take  man's  vaunted  power  of  calculation. 
Have  we  not  engines  which  can  do  all  manner  of 
sums  more  quickly  and  correctly  than  we  can? 
What  prizeman  in  Hypothetics  at  any  of  our  Col- 
leges of  Unreason  can  compare  with  some  of  these 
machines  in  their  own  line  ?  In  fact,  wherever  pre- 
cision is  required  man  flies  to  the  machine  at  once,  as 

241 


Erewhon 


far  preferable  to  himself.  Our  sum-engines  never 
drop  a  figure,  nor  our  looms  a  stitch;  the  machine 
is  brisk  and  active,  when  the  man  is  weary;  it  is 
clear-headed  and  collected,  when  the  man  is  stupid 
and  dull ;  it  needs  no  slumber,  when  man  must  sleep 
or  drop;  ever  at  its  post,  ever  ready  for  work,  its 
alacrity  never  flags,  its  patience  never  gives  in;  its 
might  is  stronger  than  combined  hundreds,  and 
swifter  than  the  flight  of  birds;  it  can  burrow  be- 
neath the  earth,  and  walk  upon  the  largest  rivers 
and  sink  not.  This  is  the  green  tree;  what  then 
shall  be  done  in  the  dry? 

"Who  shall  say  that  a  man  does  see  or  hear? 
He  is  such  a  hive  and  swarm  of  parasites  that  it  is 
doubtful  whether  his  body  is  not  more  theirs  than 
his,  and  whether  he  is  anything  but  another  kind  of 
ant-heap  after  all.  May  not  man  himself  become  a 
sort  of  parasite  upon  the  machines?  An  affection- 
ate machine-tickling  aphid  ? 

"It  is  said  by  some  that  our  blood  is  composed 
of  infinite  living  agents  which  go  up  and  down  the 
highways  and  byways  of  our  bodies  as  people  in 
the  streets  of  a  city.  When  we  look  down  from 
a  high  place  upon  crowded  thoroughfares,  is  it  pos- 
sible not  to  think  of  corpuscles  of  blood  traveling 
through  veins  and  nourishing  the  heart  of  the 
town?  No  mention  shall  be  made  of  sewers,  nor 
of  the  hidden  nerves  which  serve  to  communicate 
sensations  from  one  part  of  the  town's  body  to 
another;  nor  of  the  yawning  jaws  of  the  railway 
stations,  whereby  the  circulation  is  carried  directly 

242 


Book  of  the  Machines 

into  the  heart, — which  receive  the  venous  lines,  and 
disgorge  the  arterial,  with  an  eternal  pulse  of  peo- 
ple. And  the  sleep  of  the  town,  how  life-like!  with 
its  change  in  the  circulation." 

Here  the  writer  became  again  so  hopelessly  ob- 
scure that  I  was  obliged  to  miss  several  pages.  He 
resumed : — 

"It  can  be  answered  that  even  though  machines 
should  hear  never  so  well  and  speak  never  so 
wisely,  they  will  still  always  do  the  one  or  the  other 
for  our  advantage,  not  their  own;  that  man  will 
be  the  ruling  spirit  and  the  machine  the  servant; 
that  as  soon  as  a  machine  fails  to  discharge  the 
service  which  man  expects  from  it,  it  is  doomed  to 
extinction;  that  the  machines  stand  to  man  simply 
in  the  relation  of  lower  animals,  the  vapor-engine 
itself  being  only  a  more  economical  kind  of  horse; 
so  that  instead  of  being  likely  to  be  developed  into 
a  higher  kind  of  life  than  man's,  they  owe  their  very 
existence  and  progress  to  their  power  of  ministering 
to  human  wants,  and  must  therefore  both  now  and 
ever  be  man's  inferiors. 

"This  is  all  very  well.  But  the  servant  glides  by 
imperceptible  approaches  into  the  master;  and  we 
have  come  to  such  a  pass  that,  even  now,  man  must 
suffer  terribly  on  ceasing  to  benefit  the  machines. 
If  all  machines  were  to  be  annihilated  at  one  mo- 
ment, so  that  not  a  knife  nor  lever  nor  rag  of  cloth- 
ing nor  anything  whatsoever  were  left  to  man  but 
his  bare  body  alone  that  he  was  born  with,  and  if 
all  knowledge  of  mechanical  laws  were  taken  from 

243 


Erewhon 


him  so  that  he  could  make  no  more  machines,  and 
all  machine-made  food  destroyed  so  that  the  race 
of  man  should  be  left  as  it  were  naked  upon  a 
desert  island,  we  should  become  extinct  in  six  weeks. 
A  few  miserable  individuals  might  linger,  but  even 
these  in  a  year  or  two  would  become  worse  than 
monkeys.  Man's  very  soul  is  due  to  the  machines ;  it 
is  a  machine-made  thing :  he  thinks  as  he  thinks,  and 
feels  as  he  feels,  through  the  work  that  machines 
have  wrought  upon  him,  and  their  existence  is  quite 
as  much  a  sine  qua  non  for  his,  as  for  theirs.  This 
fact  precludes  us  from  proposing  the  complete  an- 
nihilation of  machinery,  but  surely  it  indicates  that 
we  should  destroy  as  many  of  them  as  we  can  pos- 
sibly dispense  with,  lest  they  should  tyrannize  over 
us  even  more  completely. 

"True,  from  a  low  materialistic  point  of  view, 
it  would  seem  that  those  thrive  best  who  use  ma- 
chinery wherever  its  use  is  possible  with  profit;  but 
this  is  the  art  of  the  machines — they  serve  that  they 
may  rule.  They  bear  no  malice  towards  man  for 
destroying  a  whole  race  of  them  provided  he  creates 
a  better  instead ;  on  the  contrary,  they  reward  him 
liberally  for  having  hastened  their  development.; 
It  is  for  neglecting  them  that  he  incurs  their  wrath, 
or  for  using  inferior  machines,  or  for  not  making 
sufficient  exertions  to  invent  new  ones,  or  for  de- 
stroying them  without  replacing  them ;  yet  these  are 
the  very  things  we  ought  to  do,  and  do  quickly; 
for  though  our  rebellion  against  their  infant  power 

244 


Book  of  the  Machines 

will  cause  infinite  suffering,  what  will  not  things 
come  to,  if  that  rebellion  is  delayed? 

"They  have  preyed  upon  man's  groveling  prefer- 
ence for  his  material  over  his  spiritual  interests, 
and  have  betrayed  him  into  supplying  that  element 
of  struggle  and  warfare  without  which  no  race  can 
advance.  The  lower  animals  progress  because  they 
struggle  with  one  another;  the  weaker  die,  the 
stronger  breed  and  transmit  their  strength.  The 
machines  being  of  themselves  unable  to  struggle, 
have  got  man  to  do  their  struggling  for  them:  as 
long  as  he  fulfills  this  function  duly,  all  goes  well 
with  him — at  least  he  thinks  so;  but  the  moment 
he  fails  to  do  his  best  for  the  advancement  of  ma- 
chinery by  encouraging  the  good  and  destroying  the 
bad,  he  is  left  behind  in  the  race  of  competition; 
and  this  means  that  he  will  be  made  uncomfortable 
in  a  variety  of  ways,  and  perhaps  die. 

"So  that  even  now  the  machines  will  only  serve 
on  condition  of  being  served,  and  that  too  upon 
their  own  terms;  the  moment  their  terms  are  not 
complied  with,  they  jib,  and  either  smash  both  them- 
selves and  all  whom  they  can  reach,  or  turn  churlish 
and  refuse  to  work  at  all.  How  many  men  at 
this  hour  are  living  in  a  state  of  bondage  to  the  ma- 
chines? How  many  spend  their  whole  lives,  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave,  in  tending  them  by  night 
and  day?  Is  it  not  plain  that  the  machines  are  gain- 
ing ground  upon  us,  when  we  reflect  on  the  increas- 
ing number  of  those  who  are  bound  down  to  them 
as  slaves,  and  of  those  who  devote  their  whole 

245 


Erewhon 


souls  to  the  advancement  of  the  mechanical  king- 
dom? 

"The  vapor-engine  must  be  fed  with  food  and 
consume  it  by  fire  even  as  man  consumes  it ;  it  sup- 
ports its  combustion  by  air  as  man  supports  it;  it 
has  a  pulse  and  circulation  as  man  has.  It  may  be 
granted  that  man's  body  is  as  yet  the  more  ver- 
satile of  the  two,  but  then  man's  body  is  an  older 
thing ;  give  the  vapor-engine  but  half  the  time  that 
man  has  had,  give  it  also  a  continuance  of  our  pres- 
ent infatuation,  and  what  may  it  not  ere  long  at- 
tain to? 

"There  are  certain  functions  indeed  of  the  vapor- 
engine  which  will  probably  remain  unchanged  for 
myriads  of  years — which  in  fact  will  perhaps  sur- 
vive when  the  use  of  vapor  has  been  superseded : 
the  piston  and  cylinder,  the  beam,  the  fly-wheel,  and 
other  parts  of  the  machine  will  probably  be  perma- 
nent, just  as  we  see  that  man  and  many  of  the 
lower  animals  share  like  modes  of  eating,  drinking, 
and  sleeping;  thus  they  have  hearts  which  beat  as 
ours,  veins  and  arteries,  eyes,  ears,  and  noses;  they 
sigh  even  in  their  sleep,  and  weep  and  yawn ;  they 
are  affected  by  their  children;  they  feel  pleasure 
and  pain,  hope,  fear,  anger,  shame ;  they  have  mem- 
ory and  prescience;  they  know  that  if  certain  things 
happen  to  them  they  will  die,  and  they  fear  death 
as  much  as  we  do ;  they  communicate  their  thoughts 
to  one  another  and  some  of  them  deliberately  act 
in  concert.  The  comparison  of  similarities  is  end- 
less: I  only  make  it  because  some  may  say  that 

246 


Book  of  the  Machines 

since  the  vapor-engine  is  not  likely  to  be  improved  in 
the  main  particulars,  it  is  unlikely  to  be  hencefor- 
ward extensively  modified  at  all.  This  is  too  good 
to  be  true :  it  will  be  modified  and  suited  for  an  in- 
finite variety  of  purposes,  as  much  as  man  has  been 
modified  so  as  to  exceed  the  brutes  in  skill. 

"In  the  meantime  the  stoker  is  almost  as  much  a 
cook  for  his  engine  as  our  own  cooks  for  ourselves. 
Consider  also  the  colliers  and  pitmen  and  coal  mer- 
chants and  coal  trains,  and  the  men  who  drive  them, 
and  the  ships  that  carry  coals — what  an  army  of 
servants  do  the  machines  thus  employ!  Are  there 
not  probably  more  men  engaged  in  tending  machin- 
ery than  in  tending  men?  Do  not  machines  eat  as 
it  were  by  mannery  ?  Are  we  not  ourselves  creating 
our  successors  in  the  supremacy  of  the  earth?  daily 
adding  to  the  beauty  and  delicacy  of  their  organi- 
zation, daily  giving  them  greater  skill  and  supply- 
ing more  and  more  of  that  self -regulating  self-acting- 
power  which  will  be  better  than  any  intellect  ? 

"What  a  new  thing  it  is  for  a  machine  to  feed  at 
all!  The  plow,  the  spade,  and  the  cart  must  eat 
through  man's  stomach ;  the  fuel  that  sets  them  go- 
ing must  burn  in  the  furnace  of  a  man  or  of  horses. 
Man  must  consume  bread  and  meat  cr  he  cannot 
dig;  the  bread  and  meat  are  the  fuel  which  drive 
the  spade.  If  a  plow  be  drawn  by  horses,  the  power 
is  supplied  by  grass  or  beans  or  oats,  which  being 
burnt  in  the  belly  of  the  cattle  give  the  power  of 
working:  without  this  fuel  the  work  would  cease, 

247 


Erewhon 


as  an  engine  would  stop  if  its  furnaces  were  to 
go  out. 

"A  man  of  science  has  demonstrated  'that  no  ani- 
mal has  the  power  of  originating  mechanical  en- 
ergy, but  that  all  the  work  done  in  its  life  by  any 
animal,  and  all  the  heat  that  has  been  emitted  from 
it,  and  the  heat  which  would  be  obtained  by  burn- 
ing the  combustible  matter  which  has  been  lost  from 
its  body  during  life,  and  by  burning  its  body  after 
death,  make  up  altogether  an  exact  equivalent  to 
the  heat  which  would  be  obtained  by  burning  as 
much  food  as  it  has  used  during  its  life,  and  an 
amount  of  fuel  which  would  generate  as  much  heat 
» as  its  body  if  burned  immediately  after  death/  I 
do  not  know  how  he  has  found  this  out,  but  he  is 
a  man  of  science — how  then  can  it  be  objected 
i  gainst  the  future  vitality  of  the  machines  that  they 
are,  in  their  present  infancy,  at  the  beck  and  call 
of  beings  who  are  themselves  incapable  of  originat- 
ing mechanical  energy? 

"The  main  point,  however,  to  be  observed  as  af- 
fording cause  for  alarm  is,  that  whereas  animals 
were  formerly  the  only  stomachs  of  the  machines, 
there  are  now  many  which  have  stomachs  of  their 
own,  and  consume  their  food  themselves.  This  is 
a  great  step  towards  their  becoming,  if  not  animate, 
yet  something  so  near  akin  to  it,  as  not  to  differ 
more  widely  from  our  own  life  than  animals  do 
from  vegetables.  And  though  man  should  remain, 
in  some  respects,  the  higher  creature,  is  not  this 
in  accordance  with  the  practice  of  nature,  which 

248 


Book  of  the  Machines 

allows  superiority  in  some  things  to  animals  which 
have,  on  the  whole,  been  long  surpassed?  Has  she 
not  allowed  the  ant  and  the  bee  to  retain  superi- 
ority over  man  in  the  organization  of  their  com- 
munities and  social  arrangements,  the  bird  in 
traversing  the  air,  the  fish  in  swimming,  the  horse 
in  strength  and  fleetness,  and  the  dog  in  self-sacri- 
fice? 

"It  is  said  by  some  with  whom  I  have  conversed 
upon  this  subject,  that  the  machines  can  never  be 
developed  into  animate  or  gw<m-animate  existences, 
inasmuch  as  they  have  no  reproductive  system,  nor 
seem  ever  likely  to  possess  one.  If  this  be  taken 
to  mean  that  they  cannot  marry,  and  that  we  are 
never  likely  to  see  a  fertile  union  between  two  va- 
por-engines with  the  young  ones  playing  about  the 
door  of  the  shed,  however  greatly  we  might  desire 
to  do  so,  I  will  readily  grant  it.  But  the  objection 
is  not  a  very  profound  one.  No  one  expects  that 
all  the  features  of  the  now  existing  organizations 
will  be  absolutely  repeated  in  an  entirely  new  class 
of  life.  The  reproductive  system  of  animals  differs 
widely  from  that  of  plants,  but  both  are  reproduc- 
tive systems.  Has  nature  exhausted  her  phases  of 
this  power? 

''Surely  if  a  machine  is  able  to  reproduce  another 
machine  systematically,  we  may  say  that  it  has  a 
reproductive  system.  What  is  a  reproductive  sys- 
tem, if  it  be  not  a  system  for  reproduction?  And 
how  few  of  the  machines  are  there  which  have  not 
been  produced   systematically  by  other  machines? 

249 


Erewhon 


But  it  is  man  that  makes  them  do  so.  Yes ;  but  is 
it  not  insects  that  make  many  of  the  plants  repro- 
ductive, and  would  not  whole  families  of  plants  die 
out  if  their  fertilization  was  not  effected  by  a  class 
of  agents  utterly  foreign  to  themselves?  Does  any 
one  say  that  the  red  clover  has  no  reproductive 
system  because  the  humble  bee  (and  the  humble 
bee  only)  must  aid  and  abet  it  before  it  can  repro- 
duce? No  one.  The  humble  bee  is  a  part  of  the 
reproductive  system  of  the  clover.  Each  one  of 
ourselves  has  sprung  from  minute  animalcules 
whose  entity  was  entirely  distinct  from  our  own, 
and  which  acted  after  their  kind  with  no  thought 
or  heed  of  what  we  might  think  about  it.  These 
little  creatures  are  part  of  our  own  reproductive 
system;  then  why  not  we  part  of  that  of  the  ma- 
chines ? 

"But  the  machines  which  reproduce  machinery 
do  not  reproduce  machines  after  their  own  kind. 
A  thimble  may  be  made  by  machinery,  but  it  was 
not  made  by,  neither  will  it  ever  make,  a  thimble. 
Here,  again,  if  we  turn  to  nature  we  shall  find 
abundance  of  analogies  which  will  teach  us  that  a 
reproductive  system  may  be  in  full  force  without 
the  thing  produced  being  of  the  same  kind  as  that 
which  produced  it.  Very  few  creatures  reproduce 
after  their  own  kind;  they  reproduce  something 
which  has  the  potentiality  of  becoming  that  which 
their  parents  were.  Thus  the  butterfly  lays  an  egg, 
which  tgg  can  become  a  caterpillar,  which  cater- 
pillar can  become  a  chrysalis,  which  chrysalis  can 

250 


Book  of  the  Machines 

become  a  butterfly;  and  though  I  freely  grant  that 
the  machines  cannot  be  said  to  have  more  than  the 
germ  of  a  true  reproductive  system  at  present,  have 
we  not  just  seen  that  they  have  only  recently  ob- 
tained the  germs  of  a  mouth  and  stomach?  And 
may  not  some  stride  be  made  in  the  direction  of 
true  reproduction  which  shall  be  as  great  as  that 
which  has  been  recently  taken  in  the  direction  of 
true  feeding? 

"It  is  possible  that  the  system  when  developed 
may  be  in  many  cases  a  vicarious  thing.  Certain 
classes  of  machines  may  be  alone  fertile,  while  the 
rest  discharge  other  functions  in  the  mechanical 
system,  just  as  the  great  majority  of  ants  and  bees 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  continuation  of  their 
species,  but  get  food  and  store  it,  without  thought 
of  breeding.  One  cannot  expect  the  parallel  to  be 
complete  or  nearly  so ;  certainly  not  now,  and  prob- 
ably never;  but  is  there  not  enough  analogy  exists 
ing  at  the  present  moment,  to  make  us  feel  seriously 
uneasy  about  the  future,  and  to  render  it  our  dut} 
to  check  the  evil  while  we  can  still  do  so  ?  Machine? 
can  within  certain  limits  beget  machines  of  any  class, 
no  matter  how  different  to  themselves.  Every  class 
of  machines  will  probably  have  its  special  mechani- 
cal breeders,  and  all  the  higher  ones  will  owe  their 
existence  to  a  large  number  of  parents  and  not  to 
two  only. 

"We  are  misled  by  considering  any  complicated 
machine  as  a  single  thing;  in  truth  it  is  a  city  or 
society,  each  member  of  which  was  bred  truly  after 

251 


Erewhon 


its  kind.  We  see  a  machine  as  a  whole,  we  call  it 
by  a  name  and  individualize  it ;  we  look  at  our  own 
limbs,  and  know  that  the  combination  forms  an  in- 
dividual which  springs  from  a  single  center  of  re- 
productive action;  we  therefore  assume  that  then 
can  be  no  reproductive  action  which  does  not  arise 
from  a  single  center;  but  this  assumption  is  unsci- 
entific, and  the  bare  fact  that  no  vapor-engine  was 
ever  made  entirely  by  another,  or  two  others,  of  its 
own  kind,  is  not  sufficient  to  warrant  us  in  saying 
that  vapor-engines  have  no  reproductive  system. 
The  truth  is  that  each  part  of  every  vapor-engine 
is  bred  by  its  own  special  breeders,  whose  function 
it  is  to  breed  that  part,  and  that  only,  while  the 
combination  of  the  parts  into  a  whole  forms  an- 
other department  of  the  mechanical  reproductive 
system,  which  is  at  present  exceedingly  complex  and 
difficult  to  see  in  its  entirety. 

"Complex  now,  but  how  much  simpler  and  more 
intelligibly  organized  may  it  not  become  in  another 
hundred  thousand  years?  or  in  twenty  thousand? 
For  man  at  present  believes  that  his  interest  lies 
in  that  direction ;  he  spends  an  incalculable  amount 
of  labor  and  time  and  thought  in  making  machines 
breed  always  better  and  better;  he  has  already  suc- 
ceeded in  effecting  much  that  at  one  time  appeared 
impossible,  and  there  seem  no  limits  to  the  results 
of  accumulated  improvements  if  they  are  allowed  to 
descend  with  modification  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration. It  must  always  be  remembered  that  man's 
body  is  wha't  it  is  through  having  feeeii  molded  into 

252 


vv 


Book  of  the  Machines 

its  present  shape  by  the  chances  and  changes  of 
many  AHlHons  of  years,  but  fhsHfms  drjg£iizatioh 
never  advanced  with  anything  like  the  rapidity  with 
which  that  of  the  rrJaciiiifels  is  advancing.  This  i* 
the  most  alarmirig  feature  iiv  the  ca^e,  and  I  must 
be  pardoned  for  insisting  on  it  so  frequently." 


253 


CHAPTER     XXV 

the  machines — concluded 

Here  followed  a  very  long  and  untranslatable  di- 
gression about  the  different  races  and  families  of 
the  then  existing  machines.  The  writer  attempted 
to  support  his  theory  by  pointing  out  the  similari- 
ties existing  between  many  machines  of  a  widely 
different  character,  which  served  to  show  descent 
from  a  common  ancestor.  He  divided  machines 
into  their  genera,  subgenera,  species,  varieties,  sub- 
varieties,  and  so  forth.  He  proved  the  existence  of 
connecting  links  between  machines  that  seemed  to 
have  very  little  in  common,  and  showed  that  many 
more  such  links  had  existed,  but  had  now  perished. 
He  pointed  out  tendencies  to  reversion,  and  the  pres- 
ence of  rudimentary  organs  which  existed  in  many 
machines  feebly  developed  and  perfectly  useless,  yet 
serving  to  mark  descent  from  an  ancestor  to  whom 
the  function  was  actually  useful. 

I  left  the  translation  of  this  part  of  the  treatise, 
which,  by  the  way,  was  far  longer  than  all  that  I 
have  given  here,  for  a  later  opportunity.  Unfortu- 
nately, I  left  Erewhon  before  I  could  return  to  the 
subject;  and  though  I  saved  my  translation  and 
other  papers  at  the  hazard  of  my  life,  I  was  obliged 

254 


Book  of  the  Machines 

to  sacrifice  the  original  work.  It  went  to  my  heart 
to  do  so ;  but  I  thus  gained  ten  minutes  of  invaluable 
time,  without  which  both  Arowhena  and  myself 
must  have  certainly  perished. 

I  remember  one  incident  which  bears  upon  this 
part  of  the  treatise.  The  gentleman  who  gave  it 
to  me  had  asked  to  see  my  tobacco-pipe ;  he  exam- 
ined it  carefully,  and  when  he  came  to  the  little 
protuberance  at  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  he  seemed 
much  delighted,  and  exclaimed  that  it  must  be  rudi- 
mentary.    I  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"Sir,"  he  answered,  "this  organ  is  identical  with 
the  rim  at  the  bottom  of  a  cup;  it  is  but  another 
form  of  the  same  function.  Its  purpose  must  have 
been  to  keep  the  heat  of  the  pipe  from  marking  the 
table  upon  which  it  rested.  You  would  find,  if  you 
were  to  look  up  the  history  of  tobacco-pipes,  that 
in  early  specimens  this  protuberance  was  of  a  dif- 
ferent shape  to  what  it  is  now.  It  will  have  been 
broad  at  the  bottom,  and  flat,  so  that  while  the  pipe 
was  being  smoked  the  bowl  might  rest  upon  the 
table  without  marking  it.  Use  and  disuse  must 
have  come  into  play  and  reduced  the  function  to 
its  present  rudimentary  condition.  I  should  not  be 
surprised,  sir,"  he  continued,  "if,  in  the  course  of 
time,  it  were  to  become  modified  still  farther,  and 
to  assume  the  form  of  an  ornamental  leaf  or  scroll, 
or  even  a  butterfly,  while,  in  some  cases,  it  will  be- 
come extinct." 

On  my  return  to  England,  I  looked  up  the  point, 
and  found  that  my  friend  was  right. 

255 


Erewhon 


Returning,  however,  to  the  treatise,  my  transla- 
tion recommences  as  follows : — 

"May  we  not  fancy  that  if,  in  the  remotest  geo- 
logical period,  some  early  form  of  vegetable  life 
had  been  endowed  with  the  power  of  reflecting 
upon  the  dawning  life  of  animals  which  was  corn- 
ing into  existence  alongside  of  its  own,  it  would 
have  thought  itself  exceedingly  acute  if  it  had  sur- 
mised that  animals  would  one  day  become  real 
vegetables  ?  Yet  would  this  be  more  mistaken  than 
it  would  be  on  our  part  to  imagine  that  because 
the  life  of  machines  is  a  very  different  one  to  our 
own,  there  is  therefore  no  higher  possible  develop- 
ment of  life  than  ours;  or  that  because  mechanical 
life  is  a  very  different  thing  from  ours,  therefore 
that  it  is  not  life  at  all? 

"But  I  have  heard  it  said,  'granted  that  this  is 
so,  and  that  the  vapor-engine  has  a  strength  of  its 
own,  surely  no  one  will  say  that  it  has  a  will  of  its 
own?'  Alas!  if  we  look  more  closely,  we  shall  find 
that  this  does  not  make  against  the  supposition  that 
the  vapor-engine  is  one  of  the  germs  of  a  new  phase 
of  life.  What  is  there  in  this  whole  world,  or  in 
the  worlds  beyond  it,  which  has  a  will  of  its  own? 
The  Unknown  and  Unknowable  only !        , 

"A  man  is  the  resultant  and  exponent  of  all  the 
forces  that  have  been  brought  to  bear  upon  him, 
whether  before  his  birth  or  afterwards.  His  action 
at  any  moment  depends  solely  upon  his  constitu- 
tion, and  on  the  intensity  and  direction  of  the  vari- 
ous agencies  to  which  he  is,  and  has  been,  subjected. 

256 


Book  of  the  Machines 

Seme  of  these  will  counteract  each  other;  but  as  he 
is  by  nature,  and  as  he  has  been  acted  on,  and  is 
now  acted  on  from  without,  so  will  he  do,  as  cer- 
tainly and  regularly  as  though  he  were  a  machine. 

"We  do  not  generally  admit  this,  because  we  do 
not  know  the  whole  nature  of  any  one,  nor  the 
whole  of  the  forces  that  act  upon  him.  We  see 
but  a  part,  and  being  thus  unable  to  generalize  hu- 
man conduct,  except  very  roughly,  we  deny  that  it 
is  subject  to  any  fixed  laws  at  all,  and  ascribe  much 
both  of  a  man's  character  and  actions  to  chance,  or 
luck,  or  fortune ;  but  these  are  only  words  whereby 
we  escape  the  admission  of  our  own  ignorance;  and 
a  little  reflection  will  teach  us  that  the  most  daring 
flight  of  the  imagination  or  the  most  subtle  exercise 
of  the  reason  is  as  much  the  thing  that  must  arise, 
and  the  only  thing  that  can  by  any  possibility  arise, 
at  the  moment  of  its  arising,  as  the  falling  of  a  dead 
leaf  when  the  wind  shakes  it  from  the  tree. 

"For  the  future  depends  upon  the  present,  and 
the  present  (whose  existence  is  only  one  of  those 
minor  compromises  of  which  human  life  is  full — 
for  it  lives  only  on  sufferance  of  the  past  and  fu- 
ture) depends  upon  the  past,  and  the  past  is  unal- 
terable. The  only  reason  why  we  cannot  see  the 
future  as  plainly  as  the  past,  is  because  we  know 
too  little  of  the  actual  past  and  actual  present ;  these 
things  are  too  great  for  us,  otherwise  the  future,  in 
its  minutest  details,  would  lie  spread  out  before  our 
eyes,  and  we  should  lose  our  sense  of  time  pres- 
ent by  reason  of  the  clearness  with  which  we  should 

257 


Erewhon 


see  the  past  and  future;  perhaps  we  should  not  be 
even  able  to  distinguish  time  at  all ;  but  that  is  for- 
eign. What  we  do  know  is,  that  the  more  the  past 
and  present  are  known,  the  more  the  future  can  be 
predicted ;  and  that  no  one  dreams  of  doubting  the 
fixity  of  the  future  in  cases  where  he  is  fully  cog- 
nizant of  both  past  and  present,  and  has  had  ex- 
perience of  the  consequences  that  followed  from 
such  a  past  and  such  a  present  on  previous  occasions. 
He  perfectly  well  knows  what  will  happen,  and  will 
stake  his  whole  fortune  thereon. 

"And  this  is  a  great  blessing ;  for  it  is  the  foun- 
dation on  which  morality  and  science  are  built. 
The  assurance  that  the  future  is  no  arbitrary  and 
changeable  thing,  but  that  like  futures  will  invari- 
ably follow  like  presents,  is  the  groundwork  on 
which  we  lay  all  our  plans — the  faith  on  which  we 
do  every  conscious  action  of  our  lives.  If  this  were 
not  so  we  should  be  without  a  guide ;  we  should  have 
no  confidence  in  acting,  and  hence  we  should  never 
act,  for  there  would  be  no  knowing  that  the  results 
which  will  follow  now  will  be  the  same  as  those 
which  followed  before. 

"Who  would  plow  or  sow  if  he  disbelieved  in 
the  fixity  of  the  future?  Who  would  throw  water 
on  a  blazing  house  if  the  action  of  water  upon  fire 
were  uncertain?  Men  will  only  do  their  utmost 
when  they  feel  certain  that  the  future  will  discover 
itself  against  them  if  their  utmost  has  not  been  done. 
The  feeling  of  such  a  certainty  is  a  constituent  part 
of  the  sum  of  the  forces  at  work  upon  them,  and 

258 


Book  of  the  Machines 

will  act  most  powerfully  on  the  best  and  most  moral 
men.  Those  who  are  most  firmly  persuaded  that 
the  future  is  immutably  bound  up  with  the  present 
in  which  their  work  is  lying,  will  best  husband  their 
present,  and  till  it  with  the  greatest  care.  The  fu- 
ture must  be  a  lottery  to  those  who  think  that  the 
same  combinations  can  sometimes  precede  one  set 
of  results,  and  sometimes  another.  If  their  belief 
is  sincere  they  will  speculate  instead  of  working : 
these  ought  to  be  the  immoral  men ;  the  others  have 
the  strongest  spur  to  exertion  and  morality,  if  their 
belief  is  a  living  one. 

"The  bearing  of  all  this  upon  the  machines  is 
not  immediately  apparent,  but  will  become  so  pres- 
ently. In  the  meantime  I  must  deal  with  friends  who 
tell  me  that,  though  the  future  is  fixed  as  regards 
inorganic  matter,  and  in  some  respects  with  regard 
to  man,  yet  that  there  are  many  ways  in  which  it 
cannot  be  considered  as  fixed.  Thus,  they  say  that 
fire  applied  to  dry  shavings,  and  well  fed  with  oxy- 
gen gas,  will  always  produce  a  blaze,  but  that  a 
coward  brought  into  contact  with  a  terrifying  ob- 
ject will  not  always  result  in  a  man  running  away. 
Nevertheless,  if  there  be  two  cowards  perfectly 
similar  in  every  respect,  and  if  they  be  subjected  in 
a  perfectly  similar  way  to  two  terrifying  agents, 
which  are  themselves  perfectly  similar,  there  are 
few  who  will  not  expect  a  perfect  similarity  in  the 
running  away,  even  though  a  thousand  years  inter- 
vene between  the  original  combination  and  its  being 
repeated. 

259 


Erewhon 


"The  apparently  greater  regularity  in  the  results 
of  chemical  than  of  human  combinations  arises 
from  our  inability  to  perceive  the  subtle  differences 
in  human  combinations — combinations  which  are 
never  identically  repeated.  Fire  we  know,  and  shav- 
ings we  know,  but  no  two  men  ever  were  or  ever 
will  be  exactly  alike;  and  the  smallest  difference 
may  change  the  whole  conditions  of  the  problem. 
Our  registry  of  results  must  be  infinite  before  we 
could  arrive  at  a  full  forecast  of  future  combina- 
tions; the  wonder  is  that  there  is  as  much  certainty 
concerning  human  action  as  there  is ;  and  assuredly 
the  older  we  grow  the  more  certain  we  feel  as  to 
what  such  and  such  a  kind  of  person  will  do  in  given 
circumstances;  but  this  could  never  be  the  case  un- 
less human  conduct  were  under  the  influence  of 
laws,  with  the  working  of  which  we  become  more 
and  more  familiar  through  experience. 

"If  the  above  is  sound,  it  follows  that  the  regu- 
larity with  which  machinery  acts  is  no  proof  of  the 
absence  of  vitality,  or  at  least  of  germs  which  may 
be  developed  into  a  new  phase  of  life.  At  first 
sight  it  would  indeed  appear  that  a  vapor-engine 
cannot  help  going  when  set  upon  a  line  of  rails 
with  the  steam  up  and  the  machinery  in  full  play; 
whereas  the  man  whose  business  it  is  to  drive  it  can 
help  doing  so  at  any  moment  that  he  pleases;  so 
that  the  first  has  no  spontaneity,  and  is  not  pos- 
sessed of  any  sort  of  free  will,  while  the  second  has 
and  is. 

"This  is  true  up  to  a  certain  point;  the  driver 
260 


Book  of  the  Machines 

can  stop  the  engine  at  any  moment  that  he  pleases, 
but  he  can  only  please  to  do  so  at  certain  points 
which  have  been  fixed  for  him  by  others,  or  in  the 
case  of  unexpected  obstructions  which  force  him  to 
please  to  do  so.  His  pleasure  is  not  spontaneous; 
there  is  an  unseen  choir  of  influences  around  him, 
which  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  act  in  any 
other  way  than  one.  It  is  known  beforehand  how 
much  strength  must  be  given  to  these  influences, 
just  as  it  is  known  beforehand  how  much  coal  and 
water  are  necessary  for  the  vapor-engine  itself; 
and  curiously  enough  it  will  be  found  that  the  influ- 
ences brought  to  bear  upon  the  driver  are  of  the 
same  kind  as  those  brought  to  bear  upon  the  engine 
— that  is  to  say,  food  and  warmth.  The  driver  is 
obedient  to  his  masters,  because  he  gets  food  and 
warmth  from  them,  and  if  these  are  withheld  or 
given  in  insufficient  quantities  he  will  cease  to  drive ; 
in  like  manner  the  engine  will  cease  to  work  if  it  is 
insufficiently  fed.  The  only  difference  is,  that  the 
man  is  conscious  about  his  wants,  and  the  engine 
(beyond  refusing  to  work)  does  not  seem  to  be  so; 
but  this  is  temporary,  and  has  been  dealt  with  above. 
"Accordingly,  the  requisite  strength  being  given 
to  the  motives  that  are  to  drive  the  driver,  there  has 
never,  or  hardly  ever,  been  an  instance  of  a  man 
stopping  his  engine  through  wantonness.  But  such 
a  case  might  occur ;  yes,  and  it  might  occur  that  the 
engine  should  break  down :  but  if  the  train  is  stopped 
from  some  trivial  motive  it  will  be  found  either 
that  the  strength  of  the  necessary  influences  has 

261 


Erewhon 


been  miscalculated,  or  that  the  man  has  been  mis- 
calculated, in  the  same  way  as  an  engine  may  break 
down  from  an  unsuspected  flaw ;  but  even  in  such  a 
case  there  will  have  been  no  spontaneity;  the  action 
will  have  had  its  true  parental  causes:  spontaneity 
is  only  a  term  for  man's  ignorance  of  the  gods. 

"Is  there,  then,  no  spontaneity  on  the  part  of 
those  who  drive  the  driver  ?" 

Here  followed  an  obscure  argument  upon  this 
subject,  which  I  have  thought  it  best  to  omit.  The 
writer  resumes: — "After  all  then  it  comes  to  this, 
that  the  difference  between  the  life  of  a  man  and 
that  of  a  machine  is  one  rather  of  degree  than  of 
kind,  though  differences  in  kind  are  not  wanting. 
An  animal  has  more  provision  for  emergency  than 
a  machine.  The  machine  is  less  versatile ;  its  range 
of  action  is  narrow;  its  strength  and  accuracy  in 
its  own  sphere  are  superhuman,  but  it  shows  badly 
in  a  dilemma;  sometimes  when  its  normal  action  is 
disturbed,  it  will  lose  its  head,  and  go  from  bad  to 
worse  like  a  lunatic  in  a  raging  frenzy:  but  here, 
again,  we  are  met  by  the  same  consideration  as  be- 
fore, namely,  that  the  machines  are  still  in  their  in- 
fancy ;  they  are  mere  skeletons  without  muscles  and 
flesh. 

"For  how  many  emergencies  is  an  oyster  adapted  ? 
For  as  many  as  are  likely  to  happen  to  it,  and  no 
more.  So  are  the  machines;  and  so  is  man  him- 
self. The  list  of  casualties  that  daily  occur  to  man 
through  his  want  of  adaptability  is  probably  as  great 
as  that  occurring  to  the  machines;  and  every  day 

262 


Book  of  the  Machines 

gives  them  some  greater  provision  for  the  unfore- 
seen. Let  any  one  examine  the  wonderful  self- 
regulating  and  self-adjusting  contrivances  which  are 
now  incorporated  with  the  vapor-engine,  let  him 
watch  the  way  in  which  it  supplies  itself  with  oil;  in 
which  it  indicates  its  wants  to  those  who  tend  it ;  in 
which,  by  the  governor,  it  regulates  its  application 
of  its  own  strength ;  let  him  look  at  that  store-house 
of  inertia  and  momentum  the  fly-wheel,  or  at  the 
buffers  on  a  railway  carriage ;  let  him  see  how  those 
improvements  are  being  selected  for  perpetuity 
which  contain  provision  against  the  emergencies 
that  may  arise  to  harass  the  machines,  and  then  let 
him  think  of  a  hundred  thousand  years,  and  the 
accumulated  progress  which  they  will  bring  unless 
man  can  be  awakened  to  a  sense  of  his  situation, 
and  of  the  doom  which  he  is  preparing  for  him- 
self.1 

"The  misery  is  that  man  has  been  blind  so  long 
already.  In  his  reliance  upon  the  use  of  steam  he 
has  been  betrayed  into  increasing  and  multiplying. 

1  Since  my  return  to  England,  I  have  been  told  that  those 
who  are  conversant  about  machines  use  many  terms  concern- 
ing them  which  show  that  their  vitality  is  here  recognized, 
and  that  a  collection  of  expressions  in  use  among  those  who 
attend  on  steam  engines  would  be  no  less  startling  than  in- 
structive. I  am  also  informed;  that  almost  all  machines  have 
their  own  tricks  and  idiosyncrasies;  that  they  know  their 
drivers  and  keepers;  and  that  they  will  play  pranks  upon  a 
stranger.  It  is  my  intention,  on  a  future  occasion,  to  bring 
together  examples  both  of  the  expressions  in  common  use 
among  mechanicians,  and  of  any  extraordinary  exhibitions 
of  mechanical  sagacity  and  eccentricity  that  I  can  meet  with — 
not  as  believing  in  the  Erewhonian  Professor's  theory,  but 
from  the  interest  of  the  subject. 

263 


Erewhon 


To  withdraw  steam  power  suddenly  will  not  have 
the  effect  of  reducing  us  to  the  state  in  which  we 
were  before  its  introduction;  there  will  be  a  general 
break-up  and  time  of  anarchy  such  as  has  never 
been  known;  it  will  be  as  though  our  population 
were  suddenly  doubled,  with  no  additional  means 
of  feeding  the  increased  number.  The  air  we 
breathe  is  hardly  more  necessary  for  our  animal 
life  than  the  use  of  any  machine,  on  the  strength 
of  which  we  have  increased  our  numbers,  is  to  our 
civilization;  it  is  the  machines  which  act  upon 
man  and  make  him  man,  as  much  as  man  who 
has  acted  upon  and  made  the  machines;  but  we 
must  choose  between  the  alternative  of  undergoing 
much  present  suffering,  or  seeing  ourselves  gradu- 
ally superseded  by  our  own  creatures,  till  we  rank 
no  higher  in  comparison  with  them,  than  the  beasts 
of  the  field  with  ourselves. 

"Herein  lies  our  danger.  For  many  seem  in- 
clined to  acquiesce  in  so  dishonorable  a  future. 
They  say  that  although  man  should  become  to  the 
machines  what  the  horse  and  dog  are  to  us,  yet 
that  he  will  continue  to  exist,  and  will  probably 
be  better  off  in  a  state  of  domestication  under  the 
beneficent  rule  of  the  machines  than  in  his  present 
wild  condition.  We  treat  our  domestic  animals 
with  much  kindness.  We  give  them  whatever  we 
believe  to  be  the  best  for  them;  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  our  use  of  meat  has  increased  their 
happiness  rather  than  detracted  from  it.  In  like 
manner  there  is  reason  to  hope  that  the  machines 

264 


Book  of  the  Machines 

will  use  us  kindly,  for  their  existence  will  be  in  a 
great  measure  dependent  upon  ours;  they  will  rule 
us  with  a  rod  of  iron,  but  they  will  not  eat  us ;  they 
will  not  only  require  our  services  in  the  reproduc- 
tion and  education  of  their  young,  but  also  in  wait- 
ing upon  them  as  servants;  in  gathering  food  for 
them,  and  feeding  them;  in  restoring  them  to 
health  when  they  are  sick;  and  in  either  burying 
their  dead  or  working  up  their  deceased  members 
into  new  forms  of  mechanical  existence. 

"The  very  nature  of  the  motive  power  which 
works  the  advancement  of  the  machines  precludes 
the  possibility  of  man's  life  being  rendered  miser- 
able as  well  as  enslaved.  Slaves  are  tolerably 
happy  if  they  have  good  masters,  and  the  revolu- 
tion will  not  occur  in  our  time,  nor  hardly  in  ten 
thousand  years,  or  ten  times  that.  Is  it  wise  to  be 
uneasy  about  a  contingency  which  is  so  remote? 
Man  is  not  a  sentimental  animal  where  his  material 
interests  are  concerned,  and  though  here  and  there 
some  ardent  soul  may  look  upon  himself  and  curse 
his  fate  that  he  was  not  born  a  vapor-engine,  yet 
the  mass  of  mankind  will  acquiesce  in  any  arrange- 
ment which  gives  them  better  food  and  clothing 
at  a  cheaper  rate,  and  will  refrain  from  yielding 
to  unreasonable  jealousy  merely  because  there  are 
other  destinies  more  glorious  than  their  own. 

"The  power  of  custom  is  enormous,  and  so 
gradual  will  be  the  change,  that  man's  sense  of 
what  is  due  to  himself  will  be  at  no  time  rudely 
shocked;   our   bondage   will   steal   upon  us   noise- 

265 


Erewhon 


lessly  and  by  imperceptible  approaches;  nor  will 
there  ever  be  such  a  clashing  of  desires  between 
man  and  the  machines  as  will  lead  to  an  encounter 
between  them.  Among  themselves  the  machines  will 
war  eternally,  but  they  will  still  require  man  as  the 
being  through  whose  agency  the  struggle  will  be 
principally  conducted.  In  point  of  fact  there  is 
no  occasion  for  anxiety  about  the  future  happiness 
of  man  so  long  as  he  continues  to  be  in  any  way 
profitable  to  the  machines;  he  may  become  the 
inferior  race,  but  he  will  be  infinitely  better  off  than 
he  is  now.  Is  it  not  then  both  absurd  and  unrea- 
sonable to  be  envious  of  our  benefactors?  And 
should  we  not  be  guilty  of  consummate  folly  if  we 
were  to  reject  advantages  which  we  cannot  obtain 
otherwise,  merely  because  they  involve  a  greater 
gain  to  others  than  to  ourselves? 

"With  those  who  can  argue  in  this  way  I  have 
nothing  in  common.  I  shrink  with  as  much  horror 
from  believing  that  my  race  can  ever  be  superseded 
or  surpassed,  as  I  should  do  from  believing  that 
even  at  the  remotest  period  my  ancestors  were 
other  than  human  beings.  Could  I  believe  that  ten 
hundred  thousand  years  ago  a  single  one  of  my 
ancestors  was  another  kind  of  being  to  myself,  I 
should  lose  all  self-respect,  and  take  no  further 
pleasure  or  interest  in  life.  I  have  the  same  feel- 
ing with  regard  to  my  descendants,  and  believe  it 
to  be  one  that  will  be  felt  so  generally  that  the 
country  will  resolve  upon  putting  an  immediate 
stop  to  all  further  mechanical  progress,  and  upon 

266 


Book  of  the  Machines 

destroying  all  improvements  that  have  been  made 
for  the  last  three  hundred  years.  I  would  not  urge 
more  than  this.  We  may  trust  ourselves  to  deal 
with  those  that  remain,  and  though  I  should  prefer 
to  have  seen  the  destruction  include  another  two 
hundred  years,  I  am  aware  of  the  necessity  for 
compromising,  and  would  so  far  sacrifice  my  own 
individual  convictions  as  to  be  content  with  three 
hundred.     Less  than  this  will  be  insufficient. " 

This  was  the  conclusion  of  the  attack  which  led 
to  the  destruction  of  machinery  throughout  Ere- 
whon.  There  was  only  one  serious  attempt  to 
answer  it.  Its  author  said  that  machines  were  to 
be  regarded  as  a  part  of  man's  own  physical  nature, 
being  really  nothing  but  extra-corporeal  limbs. 
Man,  he  said,  was  a  machinate  mammal.  The 
lower  animals  keep  all  their  limbs  at  home  in  their 
own  bodies,  but  many  of  man's  are  loose,  and  lie 
about  detached,  now  here  and  now  there,  in  various 
parts  of  the  world — some  being  kept  always  handy 
for  contingent  use,  and  others  being  occasionally 
hundreds  of  miles  away.  A  machine  is  merely  a 
supplementary  limb;  this  is  the  be  all  and  end  all 
of  machinery.  We  do  not  use  our  own  limbs  other 
than  as  machines;  and  a  leg  is  only  a  much  better 
wooden  leg  than  any  one  can  manufacture. 

"Observe  a  man  digging  with  a  spade;  his  right 
fore-arm  has  become  artificially  lengthened,  and 
his  hand  has  become  a  joint.  The  handle  of  the 
spade  is  like  the  knob  at  the  end  of  the  humerus; 
the  shaft  is  the  additional  bone,   and  the  oblong 

267 


Erewhon 


iron  plate  is  the  new  form  of  the  hand  which 
enables  its  possessor  to  disturb  the  earth  in  a  way 
to  which  his  original  hand  was  unequal.  Having 
thus  modified  himself,  not  as  other  animals  are 
modified,  by  circumstances  over  which  they  have 
had  net  even  the  appearance  of  control,  but  having, 
as  it  were,  taken  forethought  and  added  a  cubit  to 
his  stature,  civilization  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
race,  the  social  good  offices,  the  genial  companion- 
ship of  friends,  the  art  of  unreason,  and  all  those 
habits  of  mind  which  most  elevate  man  above  the 
lower  animals,  in  the  course  of  time  ensued. 

"Thus  civilization  and  mechanical  progress  ad- 
vanced hand  in  hand,  each  developing  and  being 
developed  by  the  other,  the  earliest  accidental  use 
of  the  stick  having  set  the  ball  rolling,  and  the 
prospect  of  advantage  keeping  it  in  motion.  In 
fact,  machines  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  mode  of 
development  by  which  human  organism  is  now 
especially  advancing,  every  past  invention  being 
an  addition  to  the  resources  of  the  human  body. 
Even  community  of  limbs  is  thus  rendered  possible 
to  those  who  have  so  much  community  of  soul  as 
to  own  money  enough  to  pay  a  railway  fare;  for  a 
train  is  only  a  seven-leagued  foot  that  five  hundred 
may  own  at  once." 

The  one  serious  danger  which  this  writer  appre- 
hended was  that  the  machines  would  so  equalize 
men's  powers,  and  so  lessen  the  severity  of  com- 
petition, that  many  persons  of  inferior  physique 
would  escape  detection  and  transmit  their  inferi- 

268 


Book  of  the  Machines 

ority  to  their  descendants.  He  feared  that  the 
removal  of  the  present  pressure  might  cause  a 
degeneracy  of  the  human  race,  and  indeed  that 
the  whole  body  might  become  purely  rudimentary, 
the  man  himself  being  nothing  but  soul  and 
mechanism,  an  intelligent  but  passionless  principle 
of  mechanical  action. 

"How  greatly,"  he  wrote,  "do  we  not  now  live 
with  our  external  limbs?  We  vary  our  physique 
with  the  seasons,  with  age,  with  advancing  or 
decreasing  wealth.  If  it  is  wet  we  are  furnished 
with  an  organ  commonly  called  an  umbrella,  and 
which  is  designed  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  our 
clothes  or  our  skins  from  the  injurious  effects  of 
rain.  Man  has  now  many  extra-corporeal  mem- 
bers, which  are  of  more  importance  to  him  than 
a  good  deal  of  his  hair,  or  at  any  rate  than  his 
whiskers.  His  memory  goes  in  his  pocket-book. 
He  becomes  more  and  more  complex  as  he  grows 
older ;  he  will  then  be  seen  with  see-engines,  or  per- 
haps with  artificial  teeth  and  hair :  if  he  be  a  really 
well-developed  specimen  of  his  race,  he  will  be  fur- 
nished with  a  large  box  upon  wheels,  two  horses, 
and  a  coachman." 

It  was  this  writer  who  originated  the  custom  of 
classifying  men  by  their  horse-power,  and  who 
divided  them  into  genera,  species,  varieties,  and 
subvarieties,  giving  them  names  from  the  hypo- 
thetical language  which  expressed  the  number  oi 
limbs  which  they  could  command  at  any  moment. 
He   showed   that   men   became   more   highly   and 

269 


Erewhon 


delicately  organized  the  more  nearly  they  ap- 
proached the  sumimt  of  opulence,  and  that  none  but 
millionaires  possessed  the  full  complement  of  limbs 
with  which  mankind  could  become  incorporate. 

"Those  mighty  organisms,"  he  continued,  "our 
leading  bankers  and  merchants,  speak  to  their  con- 
geners through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land 
in  a  second  of  time;  their  rich  and  subtle  souls 
can  defy  all  material  impediment,  whereas  the  souls 
of  the  poor  are  clogged  and  hampered  by  matter, 
which  sticks  fast  about  them  as  treacle  to  the  wings 
of  a  fly,  or  as  one  struggling  in  a  quicksand :  their 
dull  ears  must  take  days  or  weeks  to  hear  what  an- 
other would  tell  them  from  a  distance,  instead  of 
hearing  it  in  a  second  as  is  done  by  the  more  highly 
organized  classes.  Who  shall  deny  that  one  who 
can  tack  on  a  special  train  to  his  identity,  and  go 
wheresoever  he  will  whensoever  he  pleases,  is  more 
highly  organized  than  he  who,  should  he  wish  for 
the  same  power,  might  wish  for  the  wings  of  a  bird 
with  an  equal  chance  of  getting  them;  and  whose 
legs  are  his  only  means  of  locomotion?  That  old 
philosophic  enemy,  matter,  the  inherently  and  es- 
sentially evil,  still  hangs  about  the  neck  of  the  poor 
and  strangles  him :  but  to  the  rich,  matter  is  imma- 
terial; the  elaborate  organization  of  his  extra-cor- 
poreal system  has  freed  his  soul. 

"This  is  the  secret  of  the  homage  which  we  see 
rich  men  receive  from  those  who  are  poorer  than 
themselves:  it  would  be  a  grave  error  to  suppose 
that  this  deference  proceeds  from  motives  which 

270 


Book  of  the  Machines 

we  need  be  ashamed  of:  it  is  the  natural  respect 
which  all  living  creatures  pay  to  those  whom  they 
recognize  as  higher  than  themselves  in  the  scale  of 
animal  life,  and  is  analogous  to  the  veneration 
which  a  dog  feels  for  man.  Among  savage  races  it 
is  deemed  highly  honorable  to  be  the  possessor  of 
a  gun,  and  throughout  all  known  time  there  has 
been  a  feeling  that  those  who  are  worth  most  are 
the  worthiest." 

And  so  he  went  on  at  considerable  length,  at- 
tempting to  show  what  changes  in  the  distribution 
of  animal  and  vegetable  life  throughout  the  king- 
dom had  been  caused  by  this  and  that  of  man's 
inventions,  and  in  what  way  each  was  connected 
with  the  moral  and  intellectual  development  of  the 
human  species :  he  even  allotted  to  some  the  share 
which  they  had  had  in  the  creation  and  modification 
of  man's  body,  and  that  which  they  would  hereafter 
have  in  its  destruction;  but  the  other  writer  was 
considered  to  have  the  best  of  it,  and  in  the  end 
succeeded  in  destroying  all  the  inventions  that  had 
been  discovered  for  the  preceding  271  years,  a 
period  which  was  agreed  upon  by  all  parties  after 
several  years  of  wrangling  as  to  whether  a  certain 
kind  of  mangle  which  was  much  in  use  among  wash- 
erwomen should  be  saved  or  no.  It  was  at  last 
ruled  to  be  dangerous,  and  was  just  excluded  by 
the  limit  of  271  years.  Then  came  the  reactionary 
civil  wars  which  nearly  ruined  the  country,  but 
which  it  would  be  beyond  my  present  scope  to 
describe. 

271 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

THE  VIEWS  OF  AN  EREWHONIAN  PROPHET  CONCERN- 
ING  THE  RIGHTS   OF   ANIMALS. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  foregoing  chapters  that 
the  Erewhonians  are  a  meek  and  long-suffering 
people,  easily  led  by  the  nose,  and  quick  to  offer 
up  common  sense  at  the  shrine  of  logic,  when  a 
philosopher  arises  among  them,  who  carries  them 
away  through  his  reputation  for  especial  learning, 
or  by  convincing  them  that  their  existing  institu- 
tions are  not  based  on  the  strictest  principles  of 
morality. 

The  series  of  revolutions  on  which  I  shall  now 
briefly  touch  shows  this  even  more  plainly  than  the 
way  (already  dealt  with)  in  which  at  a  later  date 
they  cut  their  throats  in  the  matter  of  machinery; 
for  if  the  second  of  the  two  reformers  of  whom  I 
am  about  to  speak  had  had  his  way — or  rather  the 
way  that  he  professed  to  have — the  whole  race 
would  have  died  of  starvation  within  a  twelve- 
month. Happily  common  sense,  though  she  is  by 
nature  the  gentlest  creature  living,  when  she  feels 
the  knife  at  her  throat,  is  apt  to  develop  unexpected 
powers  of  resistance,  and  to  send  doctrinaires  fly- 
ing, even  when  they  have  bound  her  down  and 
think  they  have  her  at  their  mercy.     What  hap- 

272 


Rights  of  Animals 


pened,  so  far  as  I  could  collect  it  from  the  best 
authorities,  was  as  follows : — 

Some  two  thousand  five  hundred  years  ago  the 
Erewhonians  were  still  uncivilized,  and  lived  by 
hunting,  fishing,  a  rude  system  of  agriculture,  and 
plundering  such  few  other  nations  as  they  had  not 
yet  completely  conquered.  They  had  no  schools  or 
systems  of  philosophy,  but  by  a  kind  of  dog-knowl- 
edge did  that  which  was  right  in  their  own  eyes  and 
in  those  of  their  neighbors;  the  common  sense, 
therefore,  of  the  public  being  as  yet  unvitiated, 
crime  and  disease  were  looked  upon  much  as  they 
are  in  other  countries. 

But  with  the  gradual  advance  of  civilization  and 
increase  in  material  prosperity,  people  began  to 
ask  questions  about  things  that  they  had  hitherto 
taken  as  matters  of  course,  and  one  old  gentleman, 
who  had  great  influence  over  them  by  reason  of  the 
sanctity  of  his  life,  and  his  supposed  inspiration  by 
an  unseen  power,  whose  existence  was  now  begin- 
ning to  be  felt,  took  it  into  his  head  to  disquiet 
himself  about  the  rights  of  animals — a  question 
that  so  far  had  disturbed  nobody. 

All  prophets  are  more  or  less  fussy,  and  this  old 
gentleman  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  more 
fussy  ones.  Being  maintained  at  the  public  ex- 
pense, he  had  ample  leisure,  and  not  content  with 
limiting  his  attention  to  the  rights  of  animals,  he 
wanted  to  reduce  right  and  wrong  to  rules,  to  con- 
sider the  foundations  of  duty  and  of  good  and  evil, 
and  otherwise  to  put  all  sorts  of  matters  on  a  logical 

273 


Erewhon 


basis,  which  people  whose  time  is  money  are  content 
to  accept  on  no  basis  at  all. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  basis  on  which  he 
decided  that  duty  could  alone  rest  was  one  that 
afforded  no  standing-room  for  many  of  the  old- 
established  habits  of  the  people.  These,  he  assured 
them,  were  all  wrong,  and  whenever  any  one  ven- 
tured to  differ  from  him,  he  referred  the  matter  to 
the  unseen  power  with  which  he  alone  was  in  direct 
communication,  and  the  unseen  power  invariably 
assured  him  that  he  was  right.  As  regards  the 
rights  of  animals  he  taught  as  follows : — 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "how  wicked  it  is  of  you 
to  kill  one  another.  Once  upon  a  time  your  fore- 
fathers made  no  scruple  about  not  only  killing,  but 
also  eating  their  relations.  No  one  would  now  go 
back  to  such  detestable  practices,  for  it  is  notorious 
that  we  have  lived  much  more  happily  since  they 
were  abandoned.  From  this  increased  prosperity 
we  may  confidently  deduce  the  maxim  that  we 
should  not  kill  and  eat  our  fellow-creatures.  I 
have  consulted  the  higher  power  by  whom  you 
know  that  I  am  inspired,  and  he  has  assured  me 
that  this  conclusion  is  irrefragable. 

"Now  it  cannot  be  denied  that  sheep,  cattle,  deer, 
birds,  and  fishes  are  our  fellow-creatures.  They 
differ  from  us  in  some  respects,  but  those  in  which 
they  differ  are  few  and  secondary,  while  those  that 
they  have  in  common  with  us  are  many  and  essen- 
tial. My  friends,  if  it  was  wrong  of  you  to  kill  and 
eat  your  fellow-men,  it  is  wrong  also  to  kill  and  eat 

274 


Rights  of  Animals 


fish,  flesh,  and  fowl.  Birds,  beasts,  and  fishes,  have 
as  full  a  right  to  live  as  long  as  they  can  unmolested 
by  man,  as  man  has  to  live  unmolested  by  his  neigh- 
bors. These  words,  let  me  again  assure  you,  are  not 
mine,  but  those  of  the  higher  power  which  in- 
spires me. 

"I  grant,"  he  continued,  "that  animals  molest 
one  another,  and  that  some  of  them  go  so  far  as  to 
molest  man,  but  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  we  should 
model  our  conduct  on  that  of  the  lower  animals. 
We  should  endeavor,  rather,  to  instruct  them,  and 
bring  them  to  a  better  mind.  To  kill  a  tiger,  for 
example,  who  has  lived  on  the  flesh  of  men  and 
women  whom  he  has  killed,  is  to  reduce  ourselves 
to  the  level  of  the  tiger,  and  is  unworthy  of  people 
who  seek  to  be  guided  by  the  highest  principles  in 
all,  both  their  thoughts  and  actions. 

"The  unseen  power  who  has  revealed  himself  to 
me  alone  among  you,  has  told  me  to  tell  you  that 
you  ought  by  this  time  to  have  outgrown  the  bar- 
barous habits  of  your  ancestors.    If,  as  you  believe, 
you  know  better  than  they,  you  should  do  better. 
He  commands  you,  therefore,  to  refrain  from  kill- 
ing any  living  being  for  the  sake  of  eating  it.    The 
only  animal   food  that  you  may  eat,   is  the  flesh 
of  any  birds,  beasts,  or  fishes  that  you  may  come 
upon  as  having  died  a  natural  death,  or  a 
may  have  been  born  prematurely,  or  so  d« 
that  it  is  a  mercy  to  put  them  out  of  their  pain  ; 
may  also  eat  all  such  animals  as  have  commil 

275 


Erewhon 


suicide.  As  regards  vegetables  you  may  eat  all 
those  that  will  let  you  eat  them  with  impunity/' 

So  wisely  and  so  well  did  the  old  prophet  argue, 
and  so  terrible  were  the  threats  he  hurled  at  those 
who  should  disobey  him,  that  in  the  end  he  carried 
the  more  highly  educated  part  of  the  people  with 
him,  and  presently  the  poorer  classes  followed  suit, 
or  professed  to  do  so.  Having  seen  the  triumph 
of  his  principles,  he  was  gathered  to  his  fathers, 
and  no  doubt  entered  at  once  into  full  communion 
with  that  unseen  power  whose  favor  he  had  already 
so  preeminently  enjoyed. 

He  had  not,  however,  been  dead  very  long,  before 
some  of  his  more  ardent  disciples  took  it  upon  them 
to  better  the  instruction  of  their  master.  The  old 
prophet  had  allowed  the  use  of  eggs  and  milk,  but 
his  disciples  decided  that  to  eat  a  fresh  tgg  was  to 
destroy  a  potential  chicken,  and  that  this  came  to 
much  the  same  as  murdering  a  live  one.  Stale  eggs, 
if  it  was  quite  certain  that  they  were  too  far  gone 
to  be  able  to  be  hatched,  were  grudgingly  permitted, 
but  all  eggs  offered  for  sale  had  to  be  submitted  to 
an  inspector,  who,  on  being  satisfied  that  they  were 
addled,  would  label  them  "Laid  not  less  than  three 
months"  from  the  date,  whatever  it  might  happen 
to  be.  These  eggs,  I  need  hardly  say,  were  only 
used  in  puddings,  and  as  a  medicine  in  certain  cases 
where  an  emetic  was  urgently  required.  Milk  was 
forbidden  inasmuch  as  it  could  not  be  obtained  with- 
out robbing  some  calf  of  its  natural  sustenance,  and 


thus  endangering  its  life. 


276 


Rights  of  Animals 


It  will  be  easily  believed  that  at  first  there  were 
many  who  gave  the  new  rules  outward  observance, 
but  embraced  every  opportunity  of  indulging 
secretly  in  those  flesh-pots  to  which  they  had  been 
accustomed.  It  was  found  that  animals  were  con- 
tinually dying  natural  deaths  under  more  or  less 
suspicious  circumstances.  Suicidal  mania,  again, 
which  had  hitherto  been  confined  exclusively  to 
donkies,  became  alarmingly  prevalent  even  among 
such  for  the  most  part  self-respecting  creatures  as 
sheep  and  cattle.  It  was  astonishing  how  some 
of  these  unfortunate  animals  would  scent  out  a 
butcher's  knife  if  there  was  one  within  a  mile  of 
them,  and  run  right  up  against  it  if  the  butcher  did 
not  get  it  out  of  their  way  in  time. 

Dogs,  again,  that  had  been  quite  law-abiding  as 
regards  domestic  poultry,  tame  rabbits,  sucking 
pigs,  or  sheep  and  lambs,  suddenly  took  to  break- 
ing beyond  the  control  of  their  masters,  and  killing 
anything  that  they  were  told  not  to  touch.  It  was 
held  that  any  animal  killed  by  a  dog  had  died  a 
natural  death,  for  it  was  the  dog's  nature  to  kill 
things,  and  he  had  only  refrained  from  molesting 
farmyard  creatures  hitherto  because  his  nature  had 
been  tampered  with.  Unfortunately  the  more  these 
unruly  tendencies  became  developed,  the  more  the 
common  people  seemed  to  delight  in  breeding  the 
very  animals  that  would  put  temptation  in  the  dog's 
way.  There  is  little  doubt,  in  fact,  that  they  were 
deliberately  evading  the  law;  but  whether  this  was 

277 


Erewhon 


so  or  no  they  sold  or  ate  everything  their  dogs  had 
killed. 

Evasion  was  more  difficult  in  the  case  of  the 
larger  animals,  for  the  magistrates  could  not  wink 
at  all  the  pretended  suicides  of  pigs,  sheep,  and 
cattle  that  were  brought  before  them.  Sometimes 
they  had  to  convict,  and  a  few  convictions  had 
a  very  terrorizing  effect — whereas  in  the  case  of 
animals  killed  by  a  dog,  the  marks  of  the  dog's 
teeth  could  be  seen,  and  it  was  practically  impos- 
sible to  prove  malice  on  the  part  of  the  owner  of 
the  dog. 

Another  fertile  source  of  disobedience  to  the  law 
wras  furnished  by  a  decision  of  one  of  the  judges 
that  raised  a  great  outcry  among  the  more  fervent 
disciples  of  the  old  prophet.  The  judge  held  that 
it  was  lawful  to  kill  any  animal  in  self-defense,  and 
that  such  conduct  was  so  natural  on  the  part  of  a 
man  who  found  himself  attacked,  that  the  attacking 
creature  should  be  held  to  have  died  a  natural  death. 
The  High  Vegetarians  had  indeed  good  reason  to 
be  alarmed,  for  hardly  had  this  decision  become 
generally  known  before  a  number  of  animals, 
hitherto  harmless,  took  to  attacking  their  owners 
with  such  ferocity,  that  it  became  necessary  to  put 
them  to  a  natural  death.  Again,  it  was  quite  com- 
mon at  that  time  to  see  the  carcass  of  a  calf,  lamb, 
or  kid  exposed  for  sale  with  a  label  from  the  in- 
spector certifying  that  it  had  been  killed  in  self- 
defense.  Sometimes  even  the  carcass  of  a  lamb  or 
calf  was  exposed  as  "warranted  still-born,"  when  it 

278 


Rights  of  Animals 


presented  every  appearance  of  having  enjoyed  at 
least  a  month  of  life. 

As  for  the  flesh  of  animals  that  had  bona  fide 
died  a  natural  death,  the  permission  to  eat  it  was 
nugatory,  for  it  was  generally  eaten  by  some  other 
animal  before  man  got  hold  of  it ;  or  failing  this  it 
was  often  poisonous,  so  that  practically  people  were 
forced  to  evade  the  law  by  some  of  the  means  above 
spoken  of,  or  to  become  vegetarians.  This  last 
alternative  was  so  little  to  the  taste  of  the  Ere- 
whonians,  that  the  laws  against  killing  animals  were 
falling  into  desuetude,  and  would  very  likely  have 
been  repealed,  but  for  the  breaking  out  of  a  pesti- 
lence, which  was  ascribed  by  the  priests  and  prophets 
of  the  day  to  the  lawlessness  of  the  people  in  the 
matter  of  eating  forbidden  flesh.  On  this,  there 
was  a  reaction;  stringent  laws  were  passed,  forbid- 
ding the  use  of  meat  in  any  form  or  shape,  and  per- 
mitting no  food  but  grain,  fruits,  and  vegetables 
to  be  sold  in  shops  and  markets.  These  laws  were 
enacted  about  two  hundred  years  after  the  death  of 
the  old  prophet  who  had  first  unsettled  people's 
minds  about  the  rights  of  animals;  but  they  had 
hardly  been  passed  before  people  again  began  to 
break  them. 

I  was  told  that  the  most  painful  consequence  of 
all  this  folly  did  not  lie  in  the  fact  that  law-abiding 
people  had  to  go  without  animal  food — many  na- 
tions do  this  and  seem  none  the  worse,  and  even  in 
flesh-eating  countries  such  as  Italy,  Spain,  and 
Greece,  the  poor  seldom  see  meat  from  year's  end 

279 


Erewhon 


to  year's  end.  The  mischief  lay  in  the  jar  which 
undue  prohibition  gave  to  the  consciences  of  all  but 
those  who  were  strong  enough  to  know  that  though 
conscience  as  a  rule  boons,  it  can  also  bane.  The 
awakened  conscience  of  an  individual  will  often  lead 
him  to  do  things  in  haste  that  he  had  better  have 
left  undone,  but  the  conscience  of  a  nation  awak- 
ened by  a  respectable  old  gentleman  who  has  an 
unseen  power  up  his  sleeve  will  pave  hell  with  a 
vengeance. 

Young  people  were  told  that  it  was  a  sin  to  do 
what  their  fathers  had  done  unhurt  for  centuries; 
those,  moreover,  who  preached  to  them  about  the 
enormity  of  eating  meat,  were  an  unattractive 
academic  folk,  and  though  they  overawed  all  but 
the  bolder  youths,  there  were  few  who  did  not  in 
their  hearts  dislike  them.  However  much  the  young 
person  might  be  shielded,  he  soon  got  to  know  that 
men  and  women  of  the  world — often  far  nicer 
people  than  the  prophets  who  preached  abstention 
— continually  spoke  sneeringly  of  the  new  doctri- 
naire laws,  and  were  believed  to  set  them  aside  in 
secret,  though  they  dared  not  do  so  openly.  Small 
wonder,  then,  that  the  more  human  among  the 
student  classes  were  provoked  by  the  touch-not, 
taste-not,  handle-not  precepts  of  their  rulers,  into 
questioning  much  that  they  would  otherwise  have 
unhesitatingly  accepted. 

One  sad  story  is  on  record  about  a  young  man 
of  promising  amiable  disposition,  but  cursed  with 
more  conscience  than  brains,   who  had  been  told 

280 


Rights  of  Animals 


by  his  doctor  (for  as  I  have  above  said  disease 
was  not  yet  held  to  be  criminal)  that  he  ought 
to  eat  meat,  law  or  no  law.  He  was  much  shocked 
and  for  some  time  refused  to  comply  with  what 
he  deemed  the  unrighteous  advice  given  him  by 
his  doctor;  at  last,  however,  finding  that  he  grew 
weaker  and  weaker,  he  stole  secretly  on  a  dark 
night  into  one  of  those  dens  in  which  meat  was 
surreptitiously  sold,  and  bought  a  pound  of  prime 
steak.  He  took  it  home,  cooked  it  in  his  bedroom 
when  every  one  in  the  house  had  gone  to  rest, 
ate  it,  and  though  he  could  hardly  sleep  for  re- 
morse and  shame,  felt  so  much  better  next  morning 
that  he  hardly  knew  himself. 

Three  or  four  days  later,  he  again  found  him- 
self irresistibly  drawn  to  this  same  den.  Again  he 
bought  a  pound  of  steak,  again  he  cooked  and  ate 
it,  and  again,  in  spite  of  much  mental  torture,  on 
the  following  morning  felt  himself  a  different  man. 
To  cut  the  story  short,  though  he  never  went  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  moderation,  it  preyed  upon  his 
mind  that  he  should  be  drifting,  as  he  certainly  was, 
into  the  ranks  of  the  habitual  law-breakers. 

All  the  time  his  health  kept  on  improving,  and 
though  he  felt  sure  that  he  owed  this  to  the  beef- 
steaks, the  better  he  became  in  body,  the  more  his 
conscience  gave  him  no  rest;  two  voices  were  for- 
ever ringing  in  his  ears — the  one  saying,  "I  am 
Common  Sense  and  Nature;  heed  me,  and  I  will 
reward  you  as  I  rewarded  your  fathers  before  you." 
But  the  other  voice  said :     "Let  not  that  plausible 

281 


Erewhon 


spirit  lure  yon  to  your  ruin.  I  am  Duty;  heed  me, 
and  I  will  reward  you  as  I  rewarded  your  fathers 
before  you." 

Sometimes  he  even  seemed  to  see  the  faces  of 
the  speakers.  Common  Sense  looked  so  easy, 
genial,  and  serene,  so  frank  and  fearless,  that  do 
what  he  might  he  could  not  mistrust  her;  but  as  he 
was  on  the  point  of  following  her,  he  would  be 
checked  by  the  austere  face  of  Duty,  so  grave,  but 
yet  so  kindly ;  and  it  cut  him  to  the  heart  that  from 
time  to  time  he  should  see  her  turn  pitying  away 
from  him  as  he  followed  after  her  rival. 

The  poor  boy  continually  thought  of  the  better 
class  of  his  fellow-students,  and  tried  to  model  his 
conduct  on  what  he  thought  was  theirs.  "They," 
he  said  to  himself,  "eat  a  beeksteak?  Never."  But 
they  most  of  them  ate  one  now  and  again,  unless  it 
was  a  mutton  chop  that  tempted  them.  And  they 
used  him  for  a  model  much  as  he  did  them.  "He," 
they  would  say  to  themselves,  "eat  a  mutton  chop? 
Never."  One  night,  however,  he  was  followed  by 
one  of  the  authorities,  who  was  always  prowling 
about  in  search  of  law-breakers,  and  was  caught 
coming  out  of  the  den  with  half  a  shoulder  of  mut- 
ton concealed  about  his  person.  On  this,  even 
though  he  had  not  been  put  in  prison,  he  would  have 
been  sent  away  with  his  prospects  in  life  irretriev- 
ably ruined;  he  therefore  hanged  himself  as  soon 
as  he  got  home. 


282 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

THE  VIEWS  OF  AN  EREWHONIAN  PHILOSOPHER  CON- 
CERNING  THE    RIGHTS   OF   VEGETABLES 

Let  me  leave  this  unhappy  story,  and  return  to  the 
course  of  events  among-  the  Erewhonians  at  large. 
No  matter  how  many  laws  they  passed  increasing 
the  severity  of  the  punishments  inflicted  on  those 
who  ate  meat  in  secret,  the  people  found  means  of 
setting  them  aside  as  fast  as  they  were  made.  At 
times,  indeed,  they  would  become  almost  obsolete, 
but  when  they  were  on  the  point  of  being  repealed, 
some  national  disaster  or  the  preaching  of  some 
fanatic  would  reawaken  the  conscience  of  the  na- 
tion, and  people  were  imprisoned  by  the  thousand 
for  illicitly  selling  and  buying  animal  food. 

About  six  or  seven  hundred  years,  however,  after 
the  death  of  the  old  prophet,  a  philosopher  ap- 
peared, who,  though  he  did  not  claim  to  have  any 
communication  with  an  unseen  power,  laid  down 
the  law  with  as  much  confidence  as  if  such  a  power 
had  inspired  him.  Many  think  that  this  philosopher 
did  not  believe  his  own  teaching,  and,  being  in 
secret  a  great  meat-eater,  had  no  other  end  in  view 
than  reducing  the  prohibition  against  eating  animal 
food  to  an  absurdity,  greater  even  than  an  Ere- 
whonian  Puritan  would  be  able  to  stand. 

283 


Erewhon 


Those  who  take  this  view  hold  that  he  knew  how 
impossible  it  would  be  to  get  the  nation  to  accept 
legislation  that  it  held  to  be  sinful;  he  knew  also 
how  hopeless  it  would  be  to  convince  people  that  it 
was  not  wicked  to  kill  a  sheep  and  eat  it,  unless  he 
could  show  them  that  they  must  either  sin  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  or  die.  He,  therefore,  it  is  believed, 
made  the  monstrous  proposals  of  which  I  will  now 
speak. 

He  began  by  paying  a  tribute  of  profound  respect 
to  the  old  prophet,  whose  advocacy  of  the  rights  of 
animals,  he  admitted,  had  done  much  to  soften  the 
national  character,  and  enlarge  its  views  about  the 
sanctity  of  life  in  general.  But  he  urged  that  times 
had  now  changed;  the  lesson  of  which  the  country 
had  stood  in  need  had  been  sufficiently  learnt,  while 
as  regards  vegetables  much  had  become  known 
that  was  not  even  suspected  formerly,  and  which, 
if  the  nation  was  to  persevere  in  that  strict  ad- 
herence to  the  highest  moral  principles  which  had 
been  the  secret  of  its  prosperity  hitherto,  must 
necessitate  a  radical  change  in  its  attitude  towards 
them. 

It  was  indeed  true  that  much  was  now  known 
that  had  not  been  suspected  formerly,  for  the 
people  had  had  no  foreign  enemies,  and,  being  both 
quick-witted  and  inquisitive  into  the  mysteries  of 
nature,  had  made  extraordinary  progress  in  all  the 
many  branches  of  art  and  science.  In  the  chief 
Erewhonian  museum  I  was  shown  a  microscope 
of  considerable  power,  that  was  ascribed  by  the 

284 


Rights  of  Vegetables 

authorities  to  a  date  much  about  that  of  the  phi- 
losopher of  whom  I  am  now  speaking,  and  was 
even  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  the  instru- 
ment with  which  he  had  actually  worked. 

This  philosopher  was  Professor  of  botany  in  the 
chief  seat  of  learning  then  in  Erewhon,  and 
whether  with  the  help  of  the  microscope  still  pre- 
served, or  with  another,  had  arrived  at  a  conclusion 
now  universally  accepted  among  ourselves — I  mean, 
that  all,  both  animals  and  plants,  have  had  a  com- 
mon ancestry,  and  that  hence  the  second  should  be 
deemed  as  much  alive  as  the  first.  He  contended, 
therefore,  that  animals  and  plants  were  cousins, 
and  would  have  been  seen  to  be  so,  all  along,  it 
people  had  not  made  an  arbitrary  and  unreasonable 
division  between  what  they  chose  to  call  the  animal 
and  vegetable  kingdoms. 

He  declared,  and  demonstrated  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  those  who  were  able  to  form  an  opinion  upon 
the  subject,  that  there  is  no  difference  appreciable 
either  by  the  eye,  or  by  any  other  test,  between  a 
germ  that  will  develop  into  an  oak,  a  vine,  a  rose, 
and  one  that  (given  its  accustomed  surroundings) 
will  become  a  mouse,  an  elephant,  or  a  man. 

He  contended  that  the  course  of  any  germ's 
development  was  dictated  by  the  habits  of  the 
germs  from  which  it  was  descended,  and  of  whose 
identity  it  had  once  formed  part.  If  a  germ  found 
itself  placed  as  the  germs  in  the  line  of  its  ancestry 
were  placed,  it  would  do  as  its  ancestors  had  done, 
and  grow  up  into  the  same  kind  of  organism  as 

285 


Erewhon 


theirs.  If  it  found  the  circumstances  only  a  little 
different,  it  would  make  shift  (successfully  or  un- 
successfully) to  modify  its  development  accord- 
ingly; if  the  circumstances  were  widely  different,  it 
would  die,  probably  without  an  effort  at  self -adap- 
tation. This,  he  argued,  applied  equally  to  the 
germs  of  plants  and  of  animals. 

He  therefore  connected  all,  both  animal  and 
vegetable  development,  with  intelligence,  either 
spent  and  now  unconscious,  or  still  unspent  and  con- 
scious ;  and  in  support  of  his  view  as  regards  vege- 
table life,  he  pointed -to  the  way  in  which  all  plants 
have  adapted  themselves  to  their  habitual  environ- 
ment. Granting  that  vegetable  intelligence  at  first 
sight  appears  to  differ  materially  from  animal,  yet, 
he  urged,  it  is  like  it  in  the  one  essential  fact  that 
though  it  has  evidently  busied  itself  about  matters 
that  are  vital  to  the  well-being  of  the  organism  that 
possesses  it,  it  has  never  shown  the  slightest  tend- 
ency to  occupy  itself  with  anything  else.  This,  he 
insisted,  is  as  great  a  proof  of  intelligence  as  any 
living  being  can  give. 

"Plants,"  said  he,  "show  no  sign  of  interesting 
themselves  in  human  affairs.  We  shall  never  get  a 
rose  to  understand  that  five  times  seven  are  thirty- 
five,  and  there  is  no  use  in  talking  to  an  oak  about 
fluctuations  in  the  price  of  stocks.  Hence  we  say 
that  the  oak  and  the  rose  are  unintelligent,  and  on 
finding  that  they  do  not  understand  our  business 
conclude  that  they  do  not  understand  their  own. 
But  what  can  a  creature  who  talks  in  this  way  know 

286 


Rights  of  Vegetables 

about  intelligence?  Which  shows  greater  signs  of 
intelligence  ?    He,  or  the  rose  and  oak  ? 

"And  when  we  call  plants  stupid  for  not  under- 
standing our  business,  how  capable  do  we  show 
ourselves  of  understanding  theirs?  Can  we  form 
even  the  faintest  conception  of  the  way  in  which 
a  seed  from  a  rose-tree  turns  earth,  air,  warmth  and 
water  into  a  rose  full-blown?  Where  does  it  get 
its  color  from?  From  the  earth,  air,  &c?  Yes 
— but  how  ?  Those  petals  of  such  ineffable  texture 
— that  hue  that  outvies  the  cheek  of  a  child — that 
scent  again?  Look  at  earth,  air,  and  water — these 
are  all  the  raw  material  that  the  rose  has  got  to 
work  with ;  does  it  show  any  sign  of  want  of  intel- 
ligence in  the  alchemy  with  which  it  turns  mud 
into  rose-leaves?  What  chemist  can  do  anything 
comparable?  Why  does  no  one  try?  Simply  be- 
cause every  one  knows  that  no  human  intelligence 
is  equal  to  the  task.  We  give  it  up.  It  is  the  rose's 
department;  let  the  rose  attend  to  it — and  be 
dubbed  unintelligent  because  it  baffles  us  by  the 
miracles  it  works,  and  the  unconcerned  business- 
like way  in  which  it  works  them. 

"See  what  pains,  again,  plants  take  to  protect 
themselves  against  their  enemies.  They  scratch, 
cut,  sting,  make  bad  smells,  secrete  the  most 
dreadful  poisons  (which  Heaven  only  knows  how 
they  contrive  to  make),  cover  their  precious  seeds 
with  spines  like  those  of  a  hedgehog,  frighten 
insects  with  delicate  nervous  systems  by  assuming 
portentous   shapes,   hide  themselves,   grow   in   in- 

287 


Erewhon 


accessible  places,  and  tell  lies  so  plausibly  as  to 
deceive  even  their  subtlest  foes. 

"They  lay  traps  smeared  with  bird-lime,  to  catch 
insects,  and  persuade  them  to  drown  themselves 
in  pitchers  which  they  have  made  of  their  leaves, 
and  fill  with  water;  others  make  themselves,  as  it 
were,  into  living  rat-traps,  which  close  with  a  spring 
on  any  insect  that  settles  upon  them;  others  make 
their  flowers  into  the  shape  of  a  certain  fly  that 
is  a  great  pillager  of  honey,  so  that  when  the  real 
fly  comes  it  thinks  that  the  flowers  are  bespoke, 
and  goes  on  elsewhere.  Some  are  so  clever  as  even 
to  overreach  themselves,  like  the  horse-radish, 
which  gets  pulled  up  and  eaten  for  the  sake  of  that 
pungency  with  which  it  protects  itself  against  un- 
derground enemies.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  they 
think  that  any  insect  can  be  of  service  to  them,  see 
how  pretty  they  make  themselves. 

"What  is  to  be  intelligent  if  to  know  how  to  do 
what  one  wants  to  do,  and  to  do  it  repeatedly, 
is  not  to  be  intelligent?  Some  say  that  the  rose- 
seed  does  not  want  to  grow  into  a  rose-bush. 
Why,  then,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  reasonable, 
does  it  grow?  Likely  enough  it  is  unaware  of  the 
want  that  is  spurring  it  on  to  action.  We  have 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  a  human  embryo  knows 
that  it  wants  to  grow  into  a  baby,  or  a  baby  into 
a  man.  Nothing  ever  shows  signs  of  knowing 
what  it  is  either  wanting  or  doing,  when  its  con- 
victions both  as  to  what  it  wants,  and  how  to 
get  it,  have  been  settled  beyond  further  power  of 

288 


Rights  of  Vegetables 

question.  The  less  signs  living  creatures  give  of 
knowing  what  they  do,  provided  they  do  it,  and 
do  it  repeatedly  and  well,  the  greater  proof  they 
give  that  in  reality  they  know  how  to  do  it,  and 
have  done  it  already  on  an  infinite  number  of  past 
occasions. 

"Some  one  may  say,"  he  continued,  "  'What  do 
you  mean  by  talking  about  an  infinite  number  of 
past  occasions?  When  did  a  rose-seed  make  itself 
into  a  rose-bush  on  any  past  occasion?' 

"I  answer  this  question  with  another.  'Did  the 
rose-seed  ever  form  part  of  the  identity  of  the  rose- 
bush on  which  it  grew?'  Who  can  say  that  it 
did  not?  Again  I  ask:  'Was  this  rose-bush  ever 
linked  by  all  those  links  that  we  commonly  con- 
sider as  constituting  personal  identity,  with  the 
seed  from  which  it  in  its  turn  grew?'  Wrho  can 
say  that  it  was  not? 

"Then,  if  rose-seed  number  two  is  a  continuation 
of  the  personality  of  its  parent  rose-bush,  and  if 
that  rose-bush  is  a  continuation  of  the  personality 
of  the  rose-seed  from  which  it  sprang,  rose-seed 
number  two  must  also  be  a  continuation  of  the 
personality  of  the  earlier  rose-seed.  And  this 
rose-seed  must  be  a  continuation  of  the  personality 
of  the  preceding  rose-seed — and  so  back  and  back 
ad  infinitum.  Hence  it  is  impossible  to  deny  con- 
tinued personality  between  any  existing  rose-seed 
and  the  earliest  seed  that  can  be  called  a  rose-seed 
at  all. 

"The  answer,  then,  to  our  objector  is  not  far 
289 


Erewhon 


to  seek.  The  rose-seed  did  what  it  now  does  in 
the  persons  of  its  ancestors — to  whom  it  has  been 
so  linked  as  to  be  able  to  remember  what  those 
ancestors  did  when  they  were  placed  as  the  rose- 
seed  now  is.  Each  stage  of  development  brings 
back  the  recollection  of  the  course  taken  in  the 
preceding  stage,  and  the  development  has  been  so 
often  repeated,  that  all  doubt — and  with  all  doubt, 
all  consciousness  of  action — is  suspended. 

"But  an  objector  may  still  say,  'Granted  that 
the  linking  between  all  successive  generations  has 
been  so  close  and  unbroken,  that  each  one  of  them 
may  be  conceived  as  able  to  remember  what  it  did 
in  the  persons  of  its  ancestors — how  do  you  show 
that  it  actually  did  remember  ?' 

"The  answer  is :  'By  the  action  wThich  each 
generation  takes — an  action  which  repeats  all  the 
phenomena  that  we  commonly  associate  with 
memory — which  is  explicable  on  the  supposition 
that  it  has  been  guided  by  memory — and  which 
has  neither  been  explained,  nor  seems  ever  likely 
to  be  explained  on  any  other  theory  than  the 
supposition  that  there  is  an  abiding  memory  be- 
tween successive  generations/ 

"Will  any  one  bring  an  example  of  any  living 
creature  whose  action  we  can  understand,  per- 
forming an  ineffably  difficult  and  intricate  action, 
time  after  time,  with  invariable  success,  and  yet 
not  knowing  how  to  do  it,  and  never  having  done 
it  before?  Show  me  the  example  and  I  will  say 
no  more,  but  until  it  is  shown  me,  I  shall  credit 

290 


Rights  of  Vegetables 

action  where  I  cannot  watch  it,  with  being  con- 
trolled by  the  same  laws  as  when  it  is  within  our 
ken.  It  will  become  unconscious  as  soon  as  the 
skill  that  directs  it  has  become  perfected.  Neither 
rose-seed,  therefore,  nor  embryo  should  be  expected 
to  show  signs  of  knowing  that  they  know  what  they 
know — if  they  showed  such  signs  the  fact  of  their 
knowing  what  they  want,  and  how  to  get  it,  might 
more  reasonably  be  doubted. " 

Some  of  the  passages  already  given  in  Chapter 
XXIII  were  obviously  inspired  by  the  one  just 
quoted.  As  I  read  it,  in  a  reprint  shown  me  by 
a  Professor  who  had  edited  much  of  the  early 
literature  on  the  subject,  I  could  not  but  remember 
the  one  in  which  our  Lord  tells  His  disciples  to 
consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  who  neither  toil  nor 
spin,  but  whose  raiment  surpasses  even  that  of  Solo- 
mon in  all  his  glory. 

"They  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin?"  Is  that 
so?  "Toil  not?"  Perhaps  not,  now  that  the 
method  of  procedure  is  so  well  known  as  to  admit 
of  no  further  question — but  it  is  not  likely  that 
lilies  came  to  make  themselves  so  beautifully  with- 
out having  ever  taken  any  pains  about  the  matter. 
"Neither  do  they  spin?"  Not  with  a  spinning- 
wheel;  but  is  there  no  textile  fabric  in  a  leaf? 

What  would  the  lilies  of  the  field  say  if  they 
heard  one  of  us  declaring  that  they  neither  toil  nor 
spin?  They  would  say,  I  take  it,  much  what  we 
should  if  we  were  to  hear  of  their  preaching 
humility   on   the   text   of    Solomons,   and    saying, 

291 


Erewhon 


"Consider  the  Solomons  in  all  their  glory,  they 
toil  not  neither  do  they  spin."  We  should  say 
that  the  lilies  were  talking  about  things  that  they 
did  not  understand,  and  that  though  the  Solomons 
do  not  toil  nor  spin,  yet  there  had  been  no  lack 
of  either  toiling  or  spinning  before  they  came  to  be 
arrayed  so  gorgeously. 

Let  me  now  return  to  the  Professor.  I  have  said 
enough  to  show  the  general  drift  of  the  arguments 
on  which  he  relied  in  order  to  show  that  vegetables 
are  only  animals  under  another  name,  but  have  not 
stated  his  case  in  anything  like  the  fullness  with 
which  he  laid  it  before  the  public  The  conclusion 
he  drew,  or  pretended  to  draw,  was  that  if  it  was 
sinful  to  kill  and  eat  animals,  it  was  not  less  sinful 
to  do  the  like  by  vegetables,  or  their  seeds.  None 
such,  he  said,  should  be  eaten,  save  what  had  died 
a  natural  death,  such  as  fruit  that  was  lying  on  the 
ground  and  about  to  rot,  or  cabbage-leaves  that 
had  turned  yellow  in  late  autumn.  These  and 
other  like  garbage  he  declared  to  be  the  only  food 
that  might  be  eaten  with  a  clear  conscience.  Even 
so  the  eater  must  plant  the  pips  of  any  apples  or 
pears  that  he  may  have  eaten,  or  any  plum-stones, 
cherry-stones,  and  the  like,  or  he  would  come  near 
to  incurring  the  guilt  of  infanticide.  The  grain  of 
cereals,  according  to  him,  was  out  of  the  question, 
for  every  such  grain  had  a  living  soul  as  much  as 
man  had,  and  had  as  good  a  right  as  man  to  possess 
that  soul  in  peace. 

Having  thus  driven  his  fellow-countrymen  into  a 
292 


Rights  of  Vegetables 

corner  at  the  point  of  a  logical  bayonet  from  which 
they  felt  that  there  was  no  escape,  he  proposed  that 
the  question  what  was  to  be  done  should  be  re- 
ferred to  an  oracle  in  which  the  whole  country  had 
the  greatest  confidence,  and  to  which  recourse  was 
always  had  in  times  of  special  perplexity.  It  was 
whispered  that  a  near  relation  of  the  philosopher's 
was  lady's-maid  to  the  priestess  who  delivered  the 
oracle,  and  the  Puritan  party  declared  that  the 
strangely  unequivocal  answer  of  the  oracle  was 
obtained  by  backstairs  influence;  but  whether  this 
was  so  or  no,  the  response  as  nearly  as  I  can  trans- 
late it  was  as  follows : — 

"He  who  sins  aught 
Sins    more   than   he   ought; 
But  he  who  sins  nought 
Has  much  to  be  taught. 
Beat  or  be  beaten, 
Eat  or  be  eaten, 
Be  killed  or  kill ; 
Choose  which  you  will." 

It  was  clear  that  this  response  sanctioned  at  any 
rate  the  destruction  of  vegetable  life  when  wanted 
as  food  by  man;  and  so  forcibly  had  the  phi- 
losopher shown  that  what  was  sauce  for  vegetables 
was  so  also  for  animals,  that,  though  the  Puritan 
party  made  a  furious  outcry,  the  acts  forbidding 
the  use  of  meat  were  repealed  by  a  considerable 
majority.  Thus,  after  several  hundred  years  of 
wandering  in  the  wilderness  of  philosophy,  the 
country  reached  the  conclusions  that  common 
sense  had  long  since  arrived  at.    Even  the  Puritans 

293 


Erewhon 


after  a  vain  attempt  to  subsist  on  a  kind  of  jam 
made  of  apples  and  yellow  cabbage  leaves,  suc- 
cumbed to  the  inevitable,  and  resigned  themselves 
to  a  diet  of  roast  beef  and  mutton,  with  all  the 
usual  adjuncts  of  a  modern  dinner-table. 

One  would  have  thought  that  the  dance  they  had 
been  led  by  the  old  prophet,  and  that  still  madder 
dance  which  the  Professor  of  botany  had  gravely, 
but  as  I  believe  insidiously,  proposed  to  lead  them, 
would  have  made  the  Erewhonians  for  a  long  time 
suspicious  of  prophets  whether  they  professed  to 
have  communications  with  an  unseen  power  or  no ; 
but  so  engrained  in  the  human  heart  is  the  desire 
to  believe  that  some  people  really  do  know  what 
they  say  they  know,  and  can  thus  save  them  from 
the  trouble  of  thinking  for  themselves,  that  in  a 
short  time  would-be  philosophers  and  faddists  be- 
came more  powerful  than  ever,  and  gradually  led 
their  countrymen  to  accept  all  those  absurd  views 
of  life,  some  account  of  which  I  have  given  in  my 
earlier  chapters.  Indeed  I  can  see  no  hope  for  the 
Erewhonians  till  they  have  got  to  understand  that 
reason  uncorrected  by  instinct  is  as  bad  as  instinct 
uncorrected  by  reason. 


294 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

ESCAPE 

Though  busily  engaged  in  translating  the  extracts 
given  in  the  last  five  chapters,  I  was  also  laying 
matters  in  train  for  my  escape  with  Arowhena. 
And  indeed  it  was  high  time,  for  I  received  an 
intimation  from  one  of  the  cashiers  of  the  Musical 
Banks,  that  I  was  to  be  prosecuted  in  a  criminal 
court  ostensibly  for  measles,  but  really  for  having 
owned  a  watch,  and  attempted  the  reintroduction 
of  machinery. 

I  asked  why  measles?  and  was  told  that  there 
was  a  fear  lest  extenuating  circumstances  should 
prevent  a  jury  from  convicting  me,  if  I  were 
indicted  for  typhus  or  small-pox,  but  that  a  verdict 
would  probably  be  obtained  for  measles,  a  disease 
which  could  be  sufficiently  punished  in  a  person  of 
my  age.  I  was  given  to  understand  that  unless 
some  unexpected  change  should  come  over  the 
mind  of  his  Majesty,  I  might  expect  the  blow 
to  be  struck  within  a  very  few  days. 

My  plan  was  this — that  Arowhena  and  I  should 
escape  in  a  balloon  together.  I  fear  that  the  reader 
will  disbelieve  this  part  of  my  story,  yet  in  no  other 
have  I  endeavored  to  adhere  more  conscientiously 
to  facts,  and  can  only  throw  myself  upon  his 
charity. 

295 


Erewhon 


I  had  already  gained  the  ear  of  the  Queen,  and 
had  so  worked  upon  her  curiosity  that  she  promised 
to  get  leave  for  me  to  have  a  balloon  made  and 
inflated;  I  pointed  out  to  her  that  no  complicated 
machinery  would  be  wanted — nothing,  in  fact,  but 
a  large  quantity  of  oiled  silk,  a  car,  a  few  ropes,  &c, 
&c,  and  some  light  kind  of  gas,  such  as  the  anti- 
quarians who  were  acquainted  with  the  means 
employed  by  the  ancients  for  the  production  of 
the  lighter  gases  could  easily  instruct  her  workmen 
how  to  provide.  Her  eagerness  to  see  so  strange 
a  sight  as  the  ascent  of  a  human  being  into  the  sky 
overcame  any  scruples  of  conscience  that  she  might 
have  otherwise  felt,  and  she  set  the  antiquarians 
about  showing  her  workmen  how  to  make  the  gas, 
and  sent  her  maids  to  buy,  and  oil,  a  very  large 
quantity  of  silk  (for  I  was  determined  that  the 
balloon  should  be  a  big  one)  even  before  she  began 
to  try  and  gain  the  King's  permission;  this,  how- 
ever, she  now  set  herself  to  do,  for  I  had  sent  her 
word  that  my  prosecution  was  imminent. 

As  for  myself,  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  knew 
nothing  about  balloons;  nor  did  I  see  my  way  to 
smuggling  Arowhena  into  the  car;  nevertheless, 
knowing  that  we  had  no  other  chance  of  getting 
away  from  Erewhon,  I  drew  inspiration  from  the 
extremity  in  which  we  were  placed,  and  made  a 
pattern  from  which  the  Queen's  workmen  were 
able  to  work  successfully.  Meanwhile  the  Queen's 
carriage-builders  set  about  making  the  car,  and  it 
was  with  the  attachments  of  this  to  the  balloon 

296 


Escape 


that  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty;  I  doubt,  indeed, 
whether  I  should  have  succeeded  here,  but  for  the 
great  intelligence  of  a  foreman,  who  threw  himself 
heart  and  soul  into  the  matter,  and  often  both  fore- 
saw requirements,  the  necessity  for  which  had 
escaped  me,  and  suggested  the  means  of  providing 
for  them. 

It  happened  that  there  had  been  a  long  drought, 
during  the  latter  part  of  which  prayers  had  been 
vainly  offered  up  in  all  the  temples  of  the  air  god. 
When  I  first  told  her  Majesty  that  I  wanted  a 
balloon,  I  said  my  intention  was  to  go  up  into  the 
sky  and  prevail  upon  the  air  god  by  means  of  a 
personal  interview.  I  own  that  this  proposition 
bordered  on  the  idolatrous,  but  I  have  long  since 
repented  of  it,  and  am  little  likely  ever  to  repeat  the 
offense.  Moreover  the  deceit,  serious  though  it  was, 
will  probably  lead  to  the  conversion  of  the  whole 
country. 

When  the  Queen  told  his  Majesty  of  my  pro- 
posal, he  at  first  not  only  ridiculed  it,  but  was 
inclined  to  veto  it  Being,  however,  a  very  uxo- 
rious husband,  he  at  length  consented — as  he 
eventually  always  did  to  everything  on  which  the 
Queen  had  set  her  heart.  He  yielded  all  the  more 
readily  now,  because  he  did  not  believe  in  the 
possibility  of  my  ascent;  he  was  convinced  that 
even  though  the  balloon  should  mount  a  few  feet 
into  the  air,  it  would  collapse  immediately,  whereon 
I  should  fall  and  break  my  neck,  and  he  should  be 
rid  of  me.     He  demonstrated  this  to  her  so  con- 

297 


Erewhon 


vincingly,  that  she  was  alarmed,  and  tried  to  talk 
me  into  giving  up  the  idea,  but  on  finding  that 
I  persisted  in  my  wish  to  have  the  balloon  made, 
she  produced  an  order  from  the  King  to  the 
effect  that  all  facilities  I  might  require  should  be 
afforded  me. 

At  the  same  time  her  Majesty  told  me  that  my 
attempted  ascent  would  be  made  an  article  of 
impeachment  against  me  in  case  I  did  not  succeed 
in  prevailing  on  the  air  god  to  stop  the  drought. 
Neither  King  nor  Queen  had  any  idea  that  I  meant 
going  right  away  if  I  could  get  the  wind  to  take  me, 
nor  had  he  any  conception  of  the  existence  of  a 
certain  steady  upper  current  of  air  which  was 
always  setting  in  one  direction,  as  could  be  seen  by 
the  shape  of  the  higher  clouds,  which  pointed 
invariably  from  south-east  to  north-west.  I  had 
myself  long  noticed  this  peculiarity  in  the  climate, 
and  attributed  it,  I  believe  justly,  to  a  trade-wind 
which  was  constant  at  a  few  thousand  feet  above 
the  earth,  but  was  disturbed  by  local  influences  at 
lower  elevations. 

My  next  business  was  to  break  the  plan  to  Aro- 
whena,  and  to  devise  the  means  for  getting  her  into 
the  car.  I  felt  sure  that  she  would  come  with  me, 
but  had  made  up  my  mind  that  if  her  courage  failed 
her,  the  whole  thing  should  come  to  nothing.  Aro- 
whena  and  I  had  been  in  constant  communication 
through  her  maid,  but  I  had  thought  it  best  not  to 
tell  her  the  details  of  my  scheme  till  everything  was 
settled.    The  time  had  now  arrived,  and  I  arranged 

298 


Escape 


with  the  maid  that  I  should  be  admitted  by  a 
private  door  into  Mr.  Nosnibor's  garden  at  about 
dusk  on  the  following  evening. 

I  came  at  the  appointed  time;  the  girl  let  me 
into  the  garden  and  bade  me  wait  in  a  secluded 
alley  until  Arowhena  should  come.  It  was  now 
early  summer,  and  the  leaves  were  so  thick  upon 
the  trees  that  even  though  some  one  else  had 
entered  the  garden  I  could  have  easily  hidden 
myself.  The  night  was  one  of  extreme  beauty;  the 
sun  had  long  set,  but  there  was  still  a  rosy  gleam  in 
the  sky  over  the  ruins  of  the  railway  station;  below 
me  was  the  city  already  twinkling  with  lights,  while 
beyond  it  stretched  the  plains  for  many  a  league 
until  they  blended  with  the  sky.  I  just  noted  these 
things,  but  I  could  not  heed  them.  I  could  heed 
nothing,  till,  as  I  peered  into  the  darkness  of  the 
alley,  I  perceived  a  white  figure  gliding  swiftly 
towards  me.  I  bounded  towards  it,  and  ere  thought 
could  either  prompt  or  check,  I  had  caught  Aro- 
whena to  my  heart  and  covered  her  unresisting 
cheek  with  kisses. 

So  overjoyed  were  we  that  we  knew  not  how  to 
speak ;  indeed  I  do  not  know  when  we  should  have 
found  words  and  come  to  our  senses,  if  the  maid 
had  not  gone  off  into  a  fit  of  hysterics,  and 
awakened  us  to  the  necessity  of  self-control;  then, 
briefly  and  plainly,  I  unfolded  what  I  proposed;  I 
showed  her  the  darkest  side,  for  I  felt  sure  that  the 
darker  the  prospect  the  more  likely  she  was  to 
come.    I  told  her  that  my  plan  would  probably  end 

299 


Erewhon 


in  death  for  both  of  us,  and  that  I  dared  not  press 
it — that  at  a  word  from  her  it  should  be  abandoned ; 
still  that  there  was  just  a  possibility  of  our  escaping 
together  to  some  part  of  the  world  where  there 
would  be  no  bar  to  our  getting  married,  and  that  I 
could  see  no  other  hope. 

She  made  no  resistance,  not  a  sign  or  hint  of 
doubt  or  hesitation.  She  would  do  all  I  told  her, 
and  come  whenever  I  was  ready;  so  I  bade  her 
send  her  maid  to  meet  me  nightly — told  her  that 
she  must  put  a  good  face  on,  look  as  bright  and 
happy  as  she  could,  so  as  to  make  her  father  and 
mother  and  Zulora  think  that  she  was  forgetting 
me — and  be  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  come  to 
the  Queen's  workshops,  and  be  concealed  among 
the  ballast  and  under  rugs  in  the  car  of  the 
balloon;  and  so  we  parted. 

I  hurried  my  preparations  forward,  for  I  feared 
rain,  and  also  that  the  King  might  change  his  mind ; 
but  the  weather  continued  dry,  and  in  another  week 
the  Queen's  workmen  had  finished  the  balloon  and 
car,  while  the  gas  was  ready  to  be  turned  on  into 
the  balloon  at  any  moment.  All  being  now  pre- 
pared I  was  to  ascend  on  the  following  morning. 
I  had  stipulated  for  being  allowed  to  take  abundance 
of  rugs  and  wrappings  as  protection  from  the  cold 
of  the  upper  atmosphere,  and  also  ten  or  a  dozen 
good-sized  bags  of  ballast 

I  had  nearly  a  quarter's  pension  in  hand,  and 
with  this  I  fee'd  Arowhena's  maid,  and  bribed  the 
Queen's    foreman — who    would,    I    believe,    have 

300 


Escape 


given  me  assistance  even  without  a  bribe.  He 
helped  me  to  secrete  food  and  wine  in  the  bags  of 
ballast,  and  on  the  morning  of  my  ascent  he  kept 
the  other  workmen  out  of  the  way  while  I  got 
Arowhena  into  the  car.  She  came  with  early 
dawn,  muffled  up,  and  in  her  maid's  dress.  She 
was  supposed  to  be  gone  to  an  early  performance 
at  one  of  the  Musical  Banks,  and  told  me  that  she 
should  not  be  missed  till  breakfast,  but  that  her 
absence  must  then  be  discovered.  I  arranged  the 
ballast  about  her  so  that  it  should  conceal  her  as 
she  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  car,  and  covered  her 
with  wrappings.  Although  it  still  wanted  some 
hours  of  the  time  fixed  for  my  ascent,  I  could  not 
trust  myself  one  moment  from  the  car,  so  I  got 
into  it  at  once,  and  watched  the  gradual  inflation  of 
the  balloon.  Luggage  I  had  none,  save  the  pro- 
visions hidden  in  the  ballast  bags,  the  books  of 
mythology,  and  the  treatises  on  the  machines,  with 
my  own  manuscript  diaries  and  translations. 

I  sat  quietly,  and  awaited  the  hour  fixed  for  my 
departure — quiet  outwardly,  but  inwardly  I  was  in 
an  agony  of  suspense  lest  Arowhena's  absence 
should  be  discovered  before  the  arrival  of  the  King 
and  Queen,  who  were  to  witness  my  ascent.  They 
were  not  due  yet  for  another  two  hours,  and  during 
this  time  a  hundred  things  might  happen,  any  one 
of  which  would  undo  me. 

At  last  the  balloon  was  full;  the  pipe  which  had 
filled  it  was  removed,  the  escape  of  the  gas  having 
been  first  carefully  precluded.     Nothing  remained 

301 


Erewhon 


to  hinder  the  balloon  from  ascending  but  the  hands 
and  weight  of  those  who  were  holding  on  to  it  with 
ropes.  I  strained  my  eyes  for  the  coming  of  the 
King  and  Queen,  but  could  see  no  sign  of  their 
approach.  I  looked  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Nos- 
nibor's  house — there  was  nothing  to  indicate  dis- 
turbance, but  it  was  not  yet  breakfast  time.  The 
crowd  began  to  gather;  they  were  aware  that  I 
was  under  the  displeasure  of  the  court,  but  I  could 
detect  no  signs  of  my  being  unpopular.  On  the 
contrary,  I  received  many  kindly  expressions  of 
regard  and  encouragement,  with  good  wishes  as  to 
the  result  of  my  journey. 

I  was  speaking  to  one  gentleman  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, and  telling  him  the  substance  of  what  I 
intended  to  do  when  I  had  got  into  the  presence  of 
the  air  god  (what  he  thought  of  me  I  cannot  guess, 
for  I  am  sure  that  he  did  not  believe  in  the  objective 
existence  of  the  air  god,  nor  that  I  myself  believed 
in  it),  when  I  became  aware  of  a  small  crowd  of 
people  running  as  fast  as  they  could  from  Mr. 
Nosnibor's  house  towards  the  Queen's  workshops. 
For  the  moment  my  pulse  ceased  beating,  and  then, 
knowing  that  the  time  had  come  when  I  must 
either  do  or  die,  I  called  vehemently  to  those  who 
were  holding  the  ropes  (some  thirty  men)  to  let  go 
at  once,  and  made  gestures  signifying  danger,  and 
that  there  would  be  mischief  if  they  held  on  longer. 
Many  obeyed;  the  rest  were  too  weak  to  hold  on 
to  the  ropes,  and  were  forced  to  let  them  go.  On 
this  the  balloon  bounded   suddenly   upwards,   but 

302 


Escape 


my  own  feeling  was  that  the  earth  had  dropped  off 
from  me,  and  was  sinking  fast  into  the  open  space 
beneath. 

This  happened  at  the  very  moment  that  the 
attention  of  the  crowd  was  divided,  the  one  half 
paying  heed  to  the  eager  gestures  of  those  coming 
from  Mr.  Nosnibor's  house,  and  the  other  to  the 
exclamations  from  myself.  A  minute  more  and 
Arowhena  would  doubtless  have  been  discovered, 
but  before  that  minute  was  over,  I  was  at  such  a 
height  above  the  city  that  nothing  could  harm  me, 
and  every  second  both  the  town  and  the  crowd 
became  smaller  and  more  confused.  In  an  in- 
credibly short  time,  I  could  see  little  but  a  vast  wall 
of  blue  plains  rising  up  against  me,  towards  which- 
ever side  I  looked. 

At  first,  the  balloon  mounted  vertically  upwards, 
but  after  about  five  minutes,  when  we  had  already 
attained  a  very  great  elevation,  I  fancied  that  the 
objects  on  the  plain  beneath  began  to  move  from 
under  me.  I  did  not  feel  so  much  as  a  breath  of 
wind,  and  could  not  suppose  that  the  balloon  itself 
was  traveling.  I  was,  therefore,  wondering  what 
this  strange  movement  of  fixed  objects  could  mean, 
when  it  struck  me  that  people  in  a  balloon  do  not 
feel  the  wind  inasmuch  as  they  travel  with  it  and 
offer  it  no  resistance.  Then  I  was  happy  in  think- 
ing that  I  must  now  have  reached  the  invariable 
trade  wind  of  the  upper  air,  and  that  I  should  be 
very  possibly  wafted  for  hundreds  or  even  tht  tusands 
of  miles,  far  from  Erewhon  and  the  Erewhonians. 

303 


Erewhon 


Already  I  had  removed  the  wrappings  and  freed 
Arowhena;  but  I  soon  covered  her  up  with  them 
again,  for  it  was  already  very  cold,  and  she  was 
half  stupefied  with  the  strangeness  of  her  position. 

And  now  began  a  time,  dream-like  and  delirious, 
of  which  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  shall  ever  recover 
a  distinct  recollection.  Some  things  I  can  recall — 
as  that  we  were  ere  long  enveloped  in  vapor 
which  froze  upon  my  mustache  and  whiskers ;  then 
comes  a  memory  of  sitting  for  hours  and  hours 
in  a  thick  fog,  hearing  no  sound  but  my  own  breath- 
ing and  Arowhena' s  (for  we  hardly  spoke)  and 
seeing  no  sight  but  the  car  beneath  us  and  beside 
us,  and  the  dark  balloon  above. 

Perhaps  the  most  painful  feeling  when  the  earth 
was  hidden  was  that  the  balloon  was  motionless, 
though  our  only  hope  lay  in  our  going  forward 
with  an  extreme  of  speed.  From  time  to  time 
through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
earth,  and  was  thankful  to  perceive  that  we  must 
be  flying  forward  faster  than  in  an  express  train; 
but  no  sooner  was  the  rift  closed  than  the  old  con- 
viction of  our  being  stationary  returned  in  full 
force,  and  was  not  to  be  reasoned  with :  there  was 
another  feeling  also  which  was  nearly  as  bad; 
for  as  a  child  that  fears  it  has  gone  blind  in  a 
long  tunnel  if  there  is  no  light,  so  ere  the  earth 
had  been  many  minutes  hidden,  I  became  half  fright- 
ened lest  we  might  not  have  broken  away  from  it 
clean  and  for  ever.  Now  and  again,  I  ate  and 
gave   food   to   Arowhena,    but   by   guess-work   as 

B04 


Escape 


regards  time.  Then  came  darkness,  a  dreadful 
dreary  time,  without  even  the  moon  to  cheer  us. 

With  dawn  the  scene  was  changed:  the  clouds 
were  gone  and  morning  stars  were  shining;  the 
rising  of  the  splendid  sun  remains  still  impressed 
upon  me  as  the  most  glorious  that  I  have  ever 
seen;  beneath  us  there  was  an  embossed  chain  of 
mountains  with  snow  fresh  fallen  upon  them;  but 
we  were  far  above  them;  we  both  of  us  felt  our 
breathing  seriously  affected,  but  I  would  not  allow 
the  balloon  to  descend  a  single  inch,  not  knowing 
for  how  long  we  might  not  need  all  the  buoyancy 
which  we  could  command;  indeed  I  was  thankful 
to  find  that,  after  nearly  four-and-twenty  hours,  we 
were  still  at  so  great  a  height  above  the  earth. 

In  a  couple  of  hours  we  had  passed  the  ranges, 
which  must  have  been  some  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
across,  and  again  I  saw  a  tract  of  level  plain  ex- 
tending far  away  to  the  horizon.  I  knew  not  where 
we  were,  and  dared  not  descend,  lest  I  should  waste 
the  power  of  the  balloon,  but  I  was  half  hopeful 
that  we  might  be  above  the  country  from  which  I 
had  originally  started.  I  looked  anxiously  for  any 
sign  by  which  I  could  recognize  it,  but  could  see 
nothing,  and  feared  that  we  might  be  above  some 
distant  part  of  Erewhon,  or  a  country  inhabited 
by  savages.  While  I  was  still  in  doubt,  the  balloon 
was  again  wrapped  in  clouds,  and  we  were  left  to 
blank  space  and  to  conjectures. 

The  weary  time  dragged  on.  How  I  longed  for 
my  unhappy  watch!     I    felt  as  though  not   even 

305 


Erewhon 


time  was  moving,  so  dumb  and  spell-bound  were 
our  surroundings.  Sometimes  I  would  feel  my 
pulse,  and  count  its  beats  for  half-an-hour  to- 
gether; anything  to  mark  the  time — to  prove  that 
it  was  there,  and  to  assure  myself  that  we  were 
within  the  blessed  range  of  its  influence,  and  not 
gone  adrift  into  the  timelessness  of  eternity. 

I  had  been  doing  this  for  the  twentieth  or  thirtieth 
time,  and  had  fallen  into  a  light  sleep:  I  dreamed 
wildly  of  a  journey  in  an  express  train,  and  of 
arriving  at  a  railway  station  where  the  air  was  full 
of  the  sound  of  locomotive  engines  blowing  off 
steam  with  a  horrible  and  tremendous  hissing;  I 
woke  frightened  and  uneasy,  but  the  hissing  and 
crashing  noises  pursued  me  now  that  I  was  awake, 
and  forced  me  to  own  that  they  were  real.  What 
they  were  I  knew  not,  but  they  grew  gradually 
fainter  and  fainter,  and  after  a  time  were  lost.  In 
a  few  hours  the  clouds  broke,  and  I  saw  beneath 
me  that  which  made  the  chilled  blood  run  colder 
in  my  veins.  I  saw  the  sea,  and  nothing  but  the 
sea ;  in  the  main  black,  but  flecked  with  white  heads 
of  storm-tossed,  angry  waves. 

Arowhena  was  sleeping  quietly  at  the  bottom  of 
the  car,  and  as  I  looked  at  her  sweet  and  saintly 
beauty,  I  groaned,  and  cursed  myself  for  the  misery 
into  which  I  had  brought  her;  but  there  was  noth- 
ing for  it  now. 

I  sat  and  waited  for  the  worst,  and  presently  I 
saw  signs  as  though  that  worst  were  soon  to  be 
at  hand,  for  the  balloon  had  begun  to  sink.     On 

306 


Escape 


first  seeing  the  sea  I  had  been  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  we  must  have  been  falling,  but  now  there 
could  be  no  mistake,  we  were  sinking,  and  that 
fast.  I  threw  out  a  bag  of  ballast,  and  for  a 
time  we  rose  again,  but  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  the  sinking  recommenced,  and  I  threw  out 
another  bag. 

Then  the  battle  commenced  in  earnest.  It  lasted 
all  that  afternoon  and  through  the  night  until  the 
following  evening.  I  had  seen  never  a  sail  nor  a 
sign  of  a  sail,  though  I  had  half  blinded  myself 
with  straining  my  eyes  incessantly  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  we  had  parted  with  everything  but  the  clothes 
which  we  had  upon  our  backs;  food  and  water 
were  gone,  all  thrown  out  to  the  wheeling  alba- 
trosses, in  order  to  save  us  a  few  hours  or  even 
minutes  from  the  sea.  I  did  not  throw  away  the 
books  till  we  were  within  a  few  feet  of  the  water, 
and  clung  to  my  manuscripts  to  the  very  last. 
Hope  there  seemed  none  whatever — yet,  strangely 
enough  we  were  neither  of  us  utterly  hopeless,  and 
even  when  the  evil  that  we  dreaded  was  upon  us, 
and  that  which  we  greatly  feared  had  come,  we  sat 
in  the  car  of  the  balloon  with  the  waters  up  to  our 
middle,  and  still  smiled  with  a  ghastly  hopefulness 
to  one  another. 


He  who  has  crossed  the  St.  Gothard  will  re- 
member that  below  Andermatt  there  is  one  of  th<><e 
Alpine  gorges  which  reach  the  very  utmost  limits 

307 


Erewhon 


of  the  sublime  and  terrible.  The  feelings  of  the 
traveler  have  become  more  and  more  highly 
wrought  at  every  step,  until  at  last  the  naked  and 
overhanging  precipices  seem  to  close  above  his 
head,  as  he  crosses  a  bridge  hung  in  mid-air  over 
a  roaring  waterfall,  and  enters  on  the  darkness  of 
a  tunnel,  hewn  out  of  the  rock. 

What  can  be  in  store  for  him  on  emerging  ? 
Surely  something  even  wilder  and  more  desolate 
than  that  which  he  has  seen  already;  yet  his 
imagination  is  paralyzed,  and  can  suggest  no  fancy 
or  vision  of  anything  to  surpass  the  reality  which  he 
had  just  witnessed.  Awed  and  breathless  he  ad- 
vances; when  lo!  the  light  of  the  afternoon  sun 
welcomes  him  as  he  leaves  the  tunnel,  and  behold 
a  smiling  valley — a  babbling  brook,  a  village  with 
tall  belfries,  and  meadows  of  brilliant  green — these 
are  the  things  which  greet  him,  and  he  smiles  to 
himself  as  the  terror  passes  away  and  in  another 
moment  is  forgotten. 

So  fared  it  now  with  ourselves.  We  had  been  in 
the  water  some  two  or  three  hours,  and  the  night 
had  come  upon  us.  We  had  said  farewell  for  the 
hundredth  time,  and  had  resigned  ourselves  to 
meet  the  end;  indeed  I  was  myself  battling  with 
a  drowsiness  from  which  it  was  only  too  probable 
that  I  should  never  wake;  when  suddenly,  Aro- 
whena  touched  me  on  the  shoulder,  and  pointed  to 
a  light  and  to  a  dark  mass  which  was  bearing  right 
upon  us.     A   cry   for  help — loud  and   clear  and 

308 


Escape 


shrill — broke  forth  from  both  of  us  at  once;  and 
in  another  five  minutes  we  were  carried  by  kind 
and  tender  hands  on  to  the  deck  of  an  Italian 
vessel. 


309 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

CONCLUSION 

The  ship  was  the  Principe  Umberto,  bound  from 
Callao  to  Genoa;  she  had  carried  a  number  of 
emigrants  to  Rio,  had  gone  thence  to  Callao,  where 
she  had  taken  in  a  cargo  of  guano,  and  was  now  on 
her  way  home.  The  captain  was  a  certain  Giovanni 
Gianni,  a  native  of  Sestri;  he  has  kindly  allowed 
me  to  refer  to  him  in  case  the  truth  of  my  story 
should  be  disputed;  but  I  grieve  to  say  that  I 
suffered  him  to  mislead  himself  in  some  impor- 
tant particulars.  I  should  add  that  when  we  were 
picked  up  we  were  a  thousand  miles  from  land. 

As  soon  as  we  were  on  board,  the  captain  began 
questioning  us  about  the  siege  of  Paris,  from  which 
city  he  had  assumed  that  we  must  have  come,  not- 
withstanding our  immense  distance  from  Europe. 
As  may  be  supposed,  I  had  not  heard  a  syllable 
about  the  war  between  France  and  Germany,  and 
was  too  ill  to  do  more  than  assent  to  all  that  he 
chose  to  put  into  my  mouth.  My  knowledge  of 
Italian  is  very  imperfect,  and  I  gathered  little  from 
anything  that  he  said;  but  I  was  glad  to  conceal 
the  true  point  of  our  departure,  and  resolved  to 
take  any  cue  that  he  chose  to  give  me. 

The  line  that  thus  suggested  itself  was  that  there 
310 


Conclusion 


had  been  ten  or  twelve  others  in  the  balloon,  that 
I  was  an  English  Milord,  and  Arowhena  a  Russian 
Countess;  that  all  the  others  had  been  drowned, 
and  that  the  dispatches  which  we  had  carried  were 
lost.  I  came  afterwards  to  learn  that  this  story 
would  not  have  been  credible,  had  not  the  captain 
been  for  some  weeks  at  sea,  for  I  found  that  when 
we  were  picked  up,  the  Germans  had  already  long 
been  masters  of  Paris.  As  it  was,  the  captain  settled 
the  whole  story  for  me,  and  I  was  well  content. 

In  a  few  days  we  sighted  an  English  vessel 
bound  from  Melbourne  to  London  with  wool. 
At  my  earnest  request,  in  spite  of  stormy  weather 
which  rendered  it  dangerous  for  a  boat  to  take  us 
from  one  ship  to  the  other,  the  captain  consented 
to  signal  the  English  vessel,  and  we  were  received 
on  board,  but  we  were  transferred  with  such  diffi- 
culty that  no  communication  took  place  as  to  the 
manner  of  our  being  found.  I  did  indeed  hear  the 
Italian  mate  who  was  in  charge  of  the  boat  shout 
out  something  in  French  to  the  effect  that  we  had 
been  picked  up  from  a  balloon,  but  the  noise  of 
the  wind  was  so  great,  and  the  captain  understood 
so  little  French  that  he  caught  nothing  of  the 
truth,  and  it  was  assumed  that  we  were  two  per- 
sons who  had  been  saved  from  shipwreck.  When 
the  captain  asked  me  in  what  ship  I  had  been 
wrecked,  I  said  that  a  party  of  us  had  been  carried 
out  to  sea  in  a  pleasure-boat  by  a  strong  current, 
and  that  Arowhena  (whom  I  described  as  a  Peru- 
vian lady)  and  I  were  alone  saved. 

311 


Erewhon 


There  were  several  passengers,  whose  goodness 
towards  us  we  can  never  repay.  I  grieve  to  think 
that  they  cannot  fail  to  discover  that  we  did  not  take 
them  fully  into  our  confidence;  but  had  we  told 
them  all,  they  would  not  have  believed  us,  and  I 
was  determined  that  no  one  should  hear  of  Ere- 
whon, or  have  the  chance  of  getting  there  before 
me,  as  long  as  I  could  prevent  it  Indeed,  the 
recollection  of  the  many  falsehoods  which  I  was 
then  obliged  to  tell,  would  render  my  life  miserable 
"were  I  not  sustained  by  the  consolations  of  my 
religion.  Among  the  passengers  there  was  a  most 
estimable  clergyman,  by  whom  Arowhena  and  I 
were  married  within  a  very  few  days  of  our  com- 
ing on  board. 

After  a  prosperous  voyage  of  about  two  months, 
we  sighted  the  Land's  End,  and  in  another  week 
we  were  landed  at  London.  A  liberal  subscription 
was  made  for  us  on  board  the  ship,  so  that  we  found 
ourselves  in  no  immediate  difficulty  about  money. 
I  accordingly  took  Arowhena  down  into  Somerset- 
shire, where  my  mother  and  sisters  had  resided 
when  I  last  heard  of  them.  To  my  great  sorrow 
I  found  that  my  mother  was  dead,  and  that  her 
death  had  been  accelerated  by  the  report  of  my 
having  been  killed,  which  had  been  brought  to  my 
employer's  station  by  Chowbok.  It  appeared  that 
he  must  have  waited  for  a  few  days  to  see  whether 
I  returned,  that  he  then  considered  it  safe  to  as- 
sume that  I  should  never  do  so,  and  had  accordingly 
made  up  a  story  about  my  having  fallen  into  a 

312 


Conclusion 


whirlpool  of  seething  waters  while  coming  down 
the  gorge  homeward.  Search  was  made  for  my 
body,  but  the  rascal  had  chosen  to  drown  me  in 
a  place  where  there  would  be  no  chance  of  its  ever 
being  recovered 

My  sisters  were  both  married,  but  neither  of  their 
husbands  was  rich.  No  one  seemed  overjoyed  on 
my  return;  and  I  soon  discovered  that  when  a 
man's  relations  have  once  mourned  for  him  as  dead, 
they  seldom  like  the  prospect  of  having  to  mourn 
for  him  a  second  time. 

Accordingly  I  returned  to  London  with  my  wife, 
and  through  the  assistance  of  an  old  friend  sup- 
ported myself  by  writing  good  little  stories  for  the 
magazines,  and  for  a  tract  society.  I  was  well 
paid;  and  I  trust  that  I  may  not  be  considered 
presumptuous  in  saying  that  some  of  the  most 
popular  of  the  brochures  which  are  distributed  in 
the  streets,  and  which  are  to  be  found  in  the 
waiting-rooms  of  the  railway  stations,  have  pro- 
ceeded from  my  pen.  During  the  time  that  I  could 
spare,  I  arranged  my  notes  and  diary  till  they 
assumed  their  present  shape.  There  remains  noth- 
ing for  me  to  add,  save  to  unfold  the  scheme  which 
I  propose  for  the  conversion  of  Erewhon. 

That  scheme  has  only  been  quite  recently  de- 
cided upon  as  the  one  which  seems  most  likely  to 
be  successful. 

It  will  be  seen  at  once  that  it  would  be  madness 
for  me  to  go  with  ten  or  a  dozen  subordinate 
missionaries  by  the  same  way  as  that  which  led 

313 


Erewhon 


me  to  discover  Erewhon.  I  should  be  imprisoned 
for  typhus,  besides  being  handed  over  to  the 
straighteners  for  having  run  away  with  Arowhena : 
an  even  darker  fate,  to  which  I  dare  hardly  again 
allude,  would  be  reserved  for  my  devoted  fellow- 
laborers.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  some  other 
way  must  be  found  for  getting  at  the  Erewhonians, 
and  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  such  another  way  is 
not  wanting.  One  of  the  rivers  which  descends 
from  the  Snowy  Mountains,  and  passes  through 
Erewhon,  is  known  to  be  navigable  for  several 
hundred  miles  from  its  mouth.  Its  upper  waters 
have  never  yet  been  explored,  but  I  feel  little  doubt 
that  it  will  be  found  possible  to  take  a  light  gun- 
boat (for  we  must  protect  ourselves)  to  the  out- 
skirts of  the  Erewhonian  country. 

I  propose,  therefore,  that  one  of  those  associa- 
tions should  be  formed  in  which  the  risk  of  each 
of  the  members  is  confined  to  the  amount  of  his 
stake  in  the  concern.  The  first  step  would  be  to 
draw  up  a  prospectus.  In  this  I  would  advise  that 
no  mention  should  be  made  of  the  fact  that  the 
Erewhonians  are  the  lost  tribes.  The  discovery  is 
one  of  absorbing  interest  to  myself,  but  it  is  of  a 
sentimental  rather  than  commercial  value,  and  busi- 
ness is  business.  The  capital  to  be  raised  should 
not  be  less  than  fifty  thousand  pounds,  and  might 
be  either  in  five  or  ten  pound  shares  as  hereafter 
determined.  This  should  be  amply  sufficient  for 
the  expenses  of  an  experimental  voyage. 

When  the  money  had  been  subscribed,  it  would 
314 


Conclusion 


be  our  duty  to  Charter  a  steamer  of  some  twelve 
or  fourteen  hundred  tons  burden,  and  with  accom- 
modation for  a  cargo  of  steerage  passengers.  She 
should  carry  two  or  three  guns  in  case  of  her  being 
attacked  by  savages  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Boats 
of  considerable  size  should  be  also  provided,  and  I 
think  it  would  be  desirable  that  these  also  should 
carry  two  or  three  six-pounders.  The  ship  should 
be  taken  up  the  river  as  far  as  was  considered  safe, 
and  a  picked  party  should  then  ascend  in  the  boats. 
The  presence  both  of  Arowhena  and  myself  would 
be  necessary  at  this  stage,  inasmuch  as  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  language  would  disarm  suspicion,  and 
facilitate  negotiations. 

We  should  begin  by  representing  the  advantages 
afforded  to  labor  in  the  colony  of  Queensland,  and 
point  out  to  the  Erewhonians  that  by  emigrating 
thither,  they  would  be  able  to  amass,  each  and  all 
of  them,  enormous  fortunes — a  fact  which  would 
be  easily  provable  by  a  reference  to  statistics.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  a  very  great  number  might  be 
thus  induced  to  come  back  with  us  in  the  larger 
boats,  and  that  we  could  fill  our  vessel  with  emi- 
grants in  three  or  four  journeys. 

Should  we  be  attacked,  our  course  would  be  even 
simpler,  for  the  Erewhonians  have  no  gunpowder, 
and  would  be  so  surprised  with  its  effects  that  we 
should  be  able  to  capture  as  many  as  we  chose; 
in  this  case  we  should  feel  able  to  engage  them  on 
more  advantageous  terms,  for  they  would  be  pris- 
oners of  war.     But  even  though  we  were  to  meet 

315 


Erewhon 


with  no  violence,  I  doubt  not  that  a  cargo  of  seven 
or  eight  hundred  Erewhonians  could  be  induced, 
when  they  were  once  on  board  the  vessel,  to  sign 
an  agreement  which  should  be  mutually  advan- 
tageous both  to  us  and  them. 

We  should  then  proceed  to  Queensland,  and 
dispose  of  our  engagement  with  the  Erewhonians 
to  the  sugar-growers  of  that  settlement,  who  are 
in  great  want  of  labor;  it  is  believed  that  the 
money  thus  realized  would  enable  us  to  declare  a 
handsome  dividend,  and  leave  a  considerable  bal- 
ance, which  might  be  spent  in  repeating  our  opera- 
tions and  bringing  over  other  cargoes  of  Erewho- 
nians, with  fresh  consequent  profits.  In  fact  we 
could  go  backwards  and  forwards  as  long  as  there 
was  a  demand  for  labor  in  Queensland,  or  indeed 
in  any  other  Christian  colony,  for  the  supply  of 
Erewhonians  wTould  be  unlimited,  and  they  could 
be  packed  closely  and  fed  at  a  very  reasonable 
cost 

It  would  be  my  duty  and  Arowhena's  to  see  that 
our  emigrants  should  be  boarded  and  lodged  in  the 
households  of  religious  sugar-growers;  these  per- 
sons would  give  them  the  benefit  of  that  instruction 
whereof  they  stand  so  greatly  in  need.  Each  day, 
as  soon  as  they  could  be  spared  from  their  work  in 
the  plantations,  they  would  be  assembled  for  praise, 
and  be  thoroughly  grounded  in  the  Church  Cate- 
chism, while  the  whole  of  every  Sabbath  should  be 
devoted  to  singing  psalms  and  church-going. 

This  must  be  insisted  upon,  both  in  order  to  put 
316 


Conclusion 


a  stop  to  any  uneasy  feeling  which  might  show 
itself  either  in  Queensland  or  in  the  mother  country 
as  to  the  means  whereby  the  Erewhonians  had 
been  obtained,  and  also  because  it  would  give  our 
own  shareholders  the  comfort  of  reflecting  that  they 
were  saving  souls  and  filling  their  own  pockets  at 
one  and  the  same  moment.  By  the  time  the  emi- 
grants had  got  too  old  for  work  they  would  have 
become  thoroughly  instructed  in  religion ;  they  could 
then  be  shipped  back  to  Erewhon  and  carry  the  good 
seed  with  them. 

I  can  see  no  hitch  nor  difficulty  about  the  matter, 
and  trust  that  this  book  will  sufficiently  advertise 
the  scheme  to  insure  the  subscription  of  the  neces- 
sary capital;  as  soon  as  this  is  forthcoming  I  will 
guarantee  that  I  convert  the  Erewhonians  not  only 
into  good  Christians  but  into  a  source  of  consider- 
able profit  to  the  shareholders. 

I  should  add  that  I  cannot  claim  the  credit  for 
having  originated  the  above  scheme.  I  had  been 
for  months  at  my  wit's  end,  forming  plan  after  plan 
for  the  evangelization  of  Erewhon,  when  by  one  of 
those  special  interpositions  which  should  be  a  suffi- 
cient answer  to  the  skeptic,  and  make  even  the  most 
confirmed  rationalist  irrational,  my  eye  was  directed 
to  the  following  paragraph  in  the  Times  newspaper, 
of  one  of  the  first  days  in  January  1872 : — 


"Polynesians  in  Queensland. — The  Marquis  of  Normanby, 
the  new  Governor  of  Queensland,  has  completed  his  inspec- 
tion of  the  northern  districts  of  the  colony.  It  is  stated 
that  at  Mackay,  one  of  the  best  sugar-growing  districts,  his 


3*7 


Erewhon 


Excellency  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Polynesians.  In  the  course 
of  a  speech  to  those  who  entertained  him  there,  the  Marquis 
said : — 'I  have  been  told  that  the  means  by  which  Polynesians 
were  obtained  were  not  legitimate,  but  I  have  failed  to  per- 
ceive this,  in  so  far  at  least  as  Queensland  is  concerned ;  and, 
if  one  can  judge  by  the  countenances  and  manners  of  the 
Polynesians,  they  experience  no  regret  at  their  position.' 
But  his  Excellency  pointed  out  the  advantage  of  giving  them 
religious  instruction.  It  would  tend  to  set  at  rest  an  uneasy 
feeling  which  at  present  existed  in  the  country  to  know  that 
they  were  inclined  to  retain  the  Polynesians,  and  teach  them 
religion." 

I  feel  that  comment  is  unnecessary,  and  will 
therefore  conclude  with  one  word  of  thanks  to  the 
reader  who  may  have  had  the  patience  to  follow 
me  through  my  adventures  without  losing  his 
temper;  but  with  two,  for  any  who  may  write  at 
once  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Erewhon  Evangeliza- 
tion Company,  limited  (at  the  address  which  shall 
hereafter  be  advertised),  and  request  to  have  his 
name  put  down  as  a  shareholder. 

PS. — I  had  just  received  and  corrected  the  last 
proof  of  the  foregoing  volume,  and  was  walking 
down  the  Strand  from  Temple  Bar  to  Charing 
Cross,  when  on  passing  Exeter  Hall  I  saw  a  num- 
ber of  devout-looking  people  crowding  into  the 
building  with  faces  full  of  interested  and  compla- 
cent anticipation.  I  stopped,  and  saw  an  announce- 
ment that  a  missionary  meeting  was  to  be  held 
forthwith,  and  that  the  native  missionary,  the  Rev. 

William  Habakkuk,  from (the  colony  from 

which  I  had  started  on  my  adventures),  would  be 
introduced,  and  make  a  short  address.    After  some 

318 


Conclusion 


little  difficulty  I  obtained  admission,  and  heard  two 
or  three  speeches,  which  were  prefatory  to  the  in- 
troduction of  Mr.  Habakkuk.  One  of  these  struck 
me  as  perhaps  the  most  presumptuous  that  I  had 
ever  heard.  The  speaker  said  that  the  races  of 
whom  Mr.  Habakkuk  was  a  specimen,  were  in  all 
probability  the  lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel.  I  dared 
not  contradict  him  then,  but  I  felt  angry  and 
injured  at  hearing  the  speaker  jump  to  so  prepos- 
terous a  conclusion  upon  such  insufficient  grounds. 
The  discovery  of  the  ten  tribes  was  mine,  and  mine 
only.  I  was  still  in  the  very  height  of  indignation, 
when  there  was  a  murmur  of  expectation  in  the 
hall,  and  Mr.  Habakkuk  was  brought  forward.  The 
reader  may  judge  of  my  surprise  at  finding  that 
he  was  none  other  than  my  old  friend  Chowbok ! 

My  jaw  dropped,  and  my  eyes  almost  started  out 
of  my  head  with  astonishment.  The  poor  fellow 
was  dreadfully  frightened,  and  the  storm  of  ap- 
plause which  greeted  his  introduction  seemed  only 
to  add  to  his  confusion.  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to 
report  his  speech — indeed  I  could  hardly  listen  to 
it,  for  I  was  nearly  choked  with  trying  to  suppress 
my  feelings.  I  am  sure  that  I  caught  the  words 
"Adelaide,  the  Queen  Dowager,"  and  I  thought  that 
I  heard  "Mary  Magdalene"  shortly  afterwards,  but 
I  had  then  to  leave  the  hall  for  fear  of  being  turned 
out.  While  on  the  staircase,  I  heard  another  burst 
of  prolonged  and  rapturous  applause,  so  I  suppose 
the  audience  were  satisfied. 

The  feelings  that  came  uppermost  in  my  mind 
319 


Erewhon 


were  hardly  of  a  very  solemn  character,  but  I 
thought  of  my  first  acquaintance  with  Chowbok, 
of  the  scene  in  the  woodshed,  of  the  innumerable 
lies  he  had  told  me,  of  his  repeated  attempts  \ipon 
the  brandy,  and  of  many  an  incident  which  I  have 
not  thought  it  worth  while  to  dwell  upon;  and  I 
could  not  but  derive  some  satisfaction  from  the 
hope  that  my  own  efforts  might  have  contributed 
to  the  change  which  had  been  doubtless  wrought 
upon  him,  and  that  the  rite  which  I  had  performed, 
however  unprofessionally,  on  that  wild  upland 
river-bed,  had  not  been  wholly  without  effect.  I 
trust  that  what  I  have  written  about  him  in  the 
earlier  part  of  my  book  may  not  be  libellous,  and 
that  it  may  do  him  no  harm  with  his  employers. 
He  was  then  unregenerate.  I  must  certainly  find 
him  out  and  have  a  talk  wTith  him;  but  before  I 
shall  have  time  to  do  so  these  pages  will  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  public. 

At  the  last  moment  I  see  a  probability  of  a  com- 
plication which  causes  me  much  uneasiness.  Please 
subscribe  quickly.  Address  to  the  Mansion-House, 
care  of  the  Lord  Mayor,  whom  I  will  instruct  to 
receive  names  and  subscriptions  for  me  until  I  can 
organize  a  committee. 


320 


14  DAY  USE 

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MAV13B7, 


8  AM 


,.-■ 


-m&^ 


REC'D  L.D 


-Jfti2l'68  1W 


AUG  2  6  1984    -' 


beccir.  mi   413 


LD  2IA-GU, 

:  ls!0)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  Californi; 

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